THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 


'W'ndt'' a  'perfectly' glorious  country!'   she  exclaimed. 
Yes?   Bryce  Cardigan  replied.     '  It's  a  he   country;  I 
it,  and  I'm  glad  to  get  back  to  it." 


THE  VALLEY  OF 
THE  GIANTS 


BY 

PETER  B.  KYNE 

AUTHOR  OF 
CAPPY  RICKS,  THE  LONG  CHANCE,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

DEAN  CORNWELL 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1918,  BY 

PETER  B.  KYNE 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 

AT 
THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS,  GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


KPVRIGHT.  19*7.  1918.  BY  THE  RED  BOOK  CORPORATTOW 


TO 

MY  WIFE 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 


THE   VALLEY   OF  THE   GIANTS 

CHAPTER  I 

IN  THE  summer  of  1850  a  topsail  schooner  slipped 
into  the  cove  under  Trinidad  Head  and  dropped 
anchor  at  the  edge  of  the  kelp-fields.  Fifteen  min 
utes  later  her  small-boat  deposited  on  the  beach  a  man 
armed  with  long  squirrel-rifle  and  an  axe,  and  carrying 
food  and  clothing  in  a  brown  canvas  pack.  From  the 
beach  he  watched  the  boat  return  and  saw  the  schooner 
weigh  anchor  and  stand  out  to  sea  before  the  northwest 
trades.  When  she  had  disappeared  from  his  ken,  he 
swung  his  pack  to  his  broad  and  powerful  back  and 
strode  resolutely  into  the  timber  at  the  mouth  of  a 
little  river. 

The  man  was  John  Cardigan;  in  that  lonely,  hostile 
land  he  was  the  first  pioneer.  This  is  the  tale  of  Car 
digan  and  Cardigan's  son,  for  in  his  chosen  land  the 
pioneer  leader  in  the  gigantic  task  of  hewing  a  path  for 
civilization  was  to  know  the  bliss  of  woman's  love  and 
of  parenthood,  and  the  sorrow  that  comes  of  the  loss 
of  a  perfect  mate;  he  was  to  know  the  tremendous 
joy  of  accomplishment  and  worldly  success  after  infinite 
labour;  and  in  the  sunset  of  life  he  was  to  know  the  dull 
despair  of  failure  and  ruin.  Because  of  these  things 
there  is  a  tale  to  be  told,  the  tale  of  Cardigan's  son,  who, 
when  his  sire  fell  in  the  fray,  took  up  the  fight  to  save 

3 


4  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

his  heritage — a  tale  of  life  with  its  love  and  hate,  its 
battle,  victory,  defeat,  labour,  joy,  and  sorrow,  a  tale 
of  that  unconquerable  spirit  of  youth  which  spurred 
Bryce  Cardigan  to  lead  a  forlorn  hope  for  the  sake  not 
of  wealth  but  of  an  ideal.  Hark,  then,  to  this  tale  of 
Cardigan's  redwoods : 

Along  the  coast  of  California,  through  the  secret  val 
leys  and  over  the  tumbled  foothills  of  the  Coast  Range, 
extends  a  belt  of  timber  of  an  average  width  of  thirty 
miles.  In  approaching  it  from  the  Oregon  line  the 
first  tree  looms  suddenly  against  the  horizon — an  out 
post,  as  it  were,  of  the  host  of  giants  whose  column 
stretches  south  nearly  four  hundred  miles  to  where  the 
last  of  the  rear-guard  maintains  eternal  sentry-go  on  the 
crest  of  the  mountains  overlooking  Monterey  Bay. 
Far  in  the  interior  of  the  State,  beyond  the  fertile 
San  Joaquin  Valley,  the  allies  of  this  vast  army  hold  a 
small  sector  on  the  west  slope  of  the  Sierras. 

These  are  the  redwood  forests  of  California,  the  only 
trees  of  their  kind  in  the  world  and  indigenous  only  to 
these  two  areas  within  the  State.  The  coast  timber  is 
known  botanically  as  sequoia  sempervirens,  that  in  the 
interior  as  sequoia  gigantea.  As  the  name  indicates,  the 
latter  is  the  larger  species  of  the  two,  although  the  fibre 
of  the  timber  is  coarser  and  the  wood  softer  and  conse 
quently  less  valuable  commercially  than  the  sequoia 
sempervirens — which  in  Santa  Cruz,  San  Mateo,  Ma: 'in, 
and  Sonoma  counties  has  been  almost  wholly  logged  off, 
because  of  its  accessibility.  In  northern  Mendocino, 
Humboldt,and  Del  Norte  counties,  however,  sixty  years 
of  logging  seems  scarcely  to  have  left  a  scar  upon  this 
vast  body  of  timber.  Notwithstanding  sixty  years  of 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  5 

attrition,  there  remain  in  this  section  of  the  redwood 
belt  thousands  upon  thousands  of  acres  of  virgin  timber 
that  had  already  attained  a  vigorous  growth  when 
Christ  was  crucified.  In  their  vast,  sombre  recesses, 
with  the  sunlight  filtering  through  their  branches  two 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  above,  one  hears  no  sound  save 
the  tremendous  diapason  of  the  silence  of  the  ages; 
here,  more  forcibly  than  elsewhere  in  the  universe,  is 
one  reminded  of  the  littleness  of  man  and  the  glory  of 
his  creator. 

In  sizes  ranging  from  five  to  twenty  feet  in  diameter, 
the  brown  trunks  rise  perpendicularly  to  a  height  of 
from  ninety  to  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  before  putting 
forth  a  single  limb,  which  frequently  is  more  massive 
than  the  growth  which  men  call  a  tree  in  the  forests  of 
Michigan.  Scattered  between  the  giants,  like  subjects 
around  their  king,  one  finds  noble  fir,  spruce,  or  pines, 
with  some  Valparaiso  live  oak,  black  oak,  pepper- wood, 
madrone,  yew,  and  cedar. 

In  May  and  June,  when  the  twisted  and  cowering 
madrone  trees  are  putting  forth  their  clusters  of  creamy 
buds,  when  the  white  blossoms  of  the  dogwoods  line  the 
banks  of  little  streams,  when  the  azaleas  and  rhododen 
drons,  lovely  and  delicate  as  orchids,  blaze  a  bed  of  glory, 
and  the  modest  little  oxalis  has  thrust  itself  up  through 
the  brown  carpet  of  pine-needles  and  redwood-twjgs, 
these  wonderful  forests  cast  upon  one  a  potent  spell. 
To  have  seen  them  once  thus  in  gala  dress  is  to  yearn 
thereafter  to  see  them  again  and  still  again  and  grieve 
always  in  the  knowledge  of  their  inevitable  death  at  the 
bands  of  the  woodsman. 

John  Cardigan  settled  in  Humboldt  County,  where 


6     THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

the  sequoia  sempervirens  attains  the  pinnacle  of  its  glory, 
and  with  the  lust  for  conquest  hot  in  his  blood,  he  filed 
upon  a  quarter-section  of  the  timber  almost  on  the 
shore  of  Humboldt  Bay — land  upon  which  a  city  sub 
sequently  was  to  be  built.  With  his  double-bitted  axe 
and  crosscut  saw  John  Cardigan  brought  the  first  of  the 
redwood  giants  crashing  to  the  earth  above  which  it  had 
towered  for  twenty  centuries,  and  in  the  form  of  split 
posts,  railroad  ties,  pickets,  and  shakes,  the  fallen  giant 
was  hauled  to  tidewater  in  ox-drawn  wagons  and  shipped 
to  San  Francisco  in  the  little  two-masted  coasting 
schooners  of  the  period.  Here,  by  the  abominable  magic 
of  barter  and  trade,  the  dismembered  tree  was  trans 
muted  into  dollars  and  cents  and  returned  to  Humboldt 
County  to  assist  John  Cardigan  in  his  task  of  hewing 
an  empire  out  of  a  wilderness. 

At  a  period  in  the  history  of  California  when  the 
treasures  of  the  centuries  were  to  be  had  for  the  asking 
or  the  taking,  John  Cardigan  chose  that  which  others 
elected  to  cast  away.  For  him  the  fertile  wheat  and 
fruit-lands  of  California's  smiling  valleys,  the  dull  placer 
gold  in  her  foot-hill  streams,  and  the  free  grass,  knee 
deep,  on  her  cattle  and  sheep-ranges  held  no  lure;  for 
he  had  been  first  among  the  Humboldt  redwoods  and 
had  come  under  the  spell  of  the  vastness  and  antiquity, 
the  majesty  and  promise  of  these  epics  of  a  planet.  He 
was  a  big  man  with  a  great  heart  and  the  soul  of  a 
dreamer,  and  in  such  a  land  as  this  it  was  fitting  he 
should  take  his  stand. 

In  that  wasteful  day  a  timber-claim  was  not  looked 
upon  as  valuable.  The  price  of  a  quarter-section  was 
a  pittance  in  cash  and  a  brief  residence  in  a  cabin 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  7 

istructed  on  the  claim  as  evidence  of  good  faith  to  a 
government  none  too  exacting  in  the  restrictions  with 
which  it  hedged  about  its  careless  dissipation  of  the 
heritage  of  posterity.  Hence,  because  redwood  timber- 
claims  were  easy  to  acquire,  many  men  acquired  them; 
but  when  the  lure  of  greener  pastures  gripped  these 
men  and  the  necessity  for  ready  money  oppressed,  they 
were  wont  to  sell  their  holdings  for  a  few  hundred 
dollars.  Gradually  it  became  the  fashion  in  Humboldt 
to  "unload"  redwood  timber-claims  on  thrifty,  far- 
seeing,  visionary  John  Cardigan  who  appeared  to  be 
always  in  the  market  for  any  claim  worth  while. 

Cardigan  was  a  shrewd  judge  of  stumpage;  with  the 
calm  certitude  of  a  prophet  he  looked  over  township 
after  township  and  cunningly  checkerboarded  it  with 
his  holdings.  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  hillside 
timber  is  the  best,  John  Cardigan  in  those  days  preferred 
to  buy  valley  timber,  for  he  was  looking  forward  to  the 
day  when  the  timber  on  the  watersheds  should  become 
available.  He  knew  that  when  such  timber  should  be 
cut  it  would  have  to  be  hauled  out  through  the  valleys 
where  his  untouched  holdings  formed  an  impenetrable 
barrier  to  the  exit!  Before  long  the  owners  of  timber 
on  the  watersheds  would  come  to  realize  this  and  sell 
to  John  Cardigan  at  a  reasonable  price. 

Time  passed.  John  Cardigan  no  longer  swung  an 
axe  or  dragged  a  cross-cut  saw  through  a  fallen  redwood, 
He  was  an  employer  of  labour  now,  well  known  in  San 
Francisco  as  a  manufacturer  of  split-redwood  products, 
the  purchasers  sending  their  own  schooners  for  the  cargo. 
And  presently  John  Cardigan  mortgaged  all  of  his  timber 
holdings  with  a  San  Francisco  bank,  made  a  heap  of 


8  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

his  winnings,  and  like  a  true  adventurer  staked  his  all 
on  a  new  venture — the  first  sawmill  in  Humboldt 
County.  The  timbers  for  it  were  hewed  out  by  hand; 
the  boards  and  planking  were  whipsawed. 

It  was  a  tiny  mill,  judged  by  present-day  standards, 
for  in  a  fourteen-hour  working  day  John  Cardigan  and 
his  men  could  not  cut  more  than  twenty  thousand  feet 
of  lumber.  Nevertheless,  when  Cardigan  looked  at  his 
mill,  his  great  heart  would  swell  with  pride.  Built  on 
tidewater  and  at  the  mouth  of  a  large  slough  in  the 
waters  of  which  he  stored  the  logs  his  woods-crew  cut 
and  peeled  for  the  bull- whackers  to  haul  with  ox-teams 
down  a  mile-long  skid-road,  vessels  could  come  to  Car 
digan's  mill  dock  to  load  and  lie  safely  in  twenty  feet 
of  water  at  low  tide.  Also  this  dock  was  sufficiently 
far  up  the  bay  to  be  sheltered  from  the  heavy  seas  that 
rolled  in  from  Humboldt  Bar,  while  the  level  land  that 
stretched  inland  to  the  timber-line  constituted  the  only 
logical  townsite  on  the  bay. 

"Here/1  said  John  Cardigan  to  himself  exultingiy 
when  a  long-drawn  wail  told  him  his  circular  saw  was 
biting  into  the  first  redwood  log  to  be  milled  since  the 
world  began,  "I  shall  build  a  city  and  call  it  Sequoia. 
By  to-morrow  I  shall  have  cut  sufficient  timber  to 
make  a  start.  First  I  shall  build  for  my  employees 
better  homes  than  the  rude  shacks  and  tent-houses  they 
now  occupy;  then  I  shall  build  myself  a  fine  residence 
with  six  rooms,  and  the  room  that  faces  on  the  bay  shall 
be  the  parlour.  When  I  can  afford  it,  I  shall  build  a 
larger  mill,  employ  more  men,  and  build  more  houses. 
I  shall  encourage  tradesmen  to  set  up  in  business  hi 
Sequoia,  and  to  my  city  I  shall  present  a  church  and  a 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  9 

tchoolhouse.  We  shall  have  a  volunteer  fire  depart 
ment,  and  if  God  is  good,  I  shall,  at  a  later  date,  get 
out  some  long-length  fir-timber  and  build  a  schooner 
to  freight  my  lumber  to  market.  And  she  shall  have 
three  masts  instead  of  two,  and  carry  half  a  million 
feet  of  lumber  instead  of  two  hundred  thousand. 
First,  however,  I  must  build  a  steam  tugboat  to  tow 
my  schooner  in  and  out  over  Humboldt  Bar.  And 
after  that — ah,  well !  That  is  sufficient  for  the  present." 


CHAPTER  n 

F  a  AHUS  did  John  Cardigan  dream,  and  as  he 
dreamed  he  worked.  The  city  of  Sequoia  was 

-*•  born  with  the  Argonaut's  six-room  mansion  of 
rough  redwood  boards  and  a  dozen  three-room  cabins 
with  lean-to  kitchens;  and  the  tradespeople  came  when 
John  Cardigan,  with  something  of  the  largeness  of  his 
own  redwood  trees,  gave  them  ground  and  lumber  in 
order  to  encourage  the  building  of  their  enterprises. 
Also  the  dream  of  the  schoolhouse  and  the  church  came 
true,  as  did  the  steam  tugboat  and  the  schooner  with 
three  masts.  The  mill  was  enlarged  until  it  could  cut 
forty  thousand  feet  on  a  twelve-hour  shift,  and  a  planer 
and  machines  for  making  rustic  siding  and  tongued-and- 
grooved  flooring  and  ceiling  were  installed.  More  ox- 
teams  appeared  upon  the  skid-road,  which  was  longer 
now;  the  cry  of  '"Timber-r-r!"  and  the  thunderous 
roar  of  a  falling  redwood  grew  fainter  and  fainter  as  the 
forest  receded  from  the  bay  shore,  and  at  last  the  whine 
of  the  saws  silenced  these  sounds  forever  in  Sequoia. 

At  forty  John  Cardigan  was  younger  than  most  rnen 
at  thirty,  albeit  he  worked  fourteen  hours  a  day,  slept 
eight,  and  consumed  the  remaining  two  at  his  meals. 
But  through  all  those  fruitful  years  of  toil  he  had  still 
found  time  to  dream,  and  the  spell  of  the  redwoods 
had  lost  none  of  its  potency.  He  was  still  checker 
boarding  the  forested  townships  with  his  adverse  hold- 

10 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  11 

ings — the  key-positions  to  the  timber  in  back  of  beyond 
which  some  day  should  come  to  his  hand.  Also  he  had 
competition  now:  other  sawmills  dotted  the  bay  shore; 
other  three-masted  schooners  carried  Humboldt  red 
wood  to  the  world  beyond  the  bar,  over  which  they 
were  escorted  by  other  and  more  powerful  steam-tugs. 
This  competition  John  Cardigan  welcomed  and  en 
joyed,  however,  for  he  had  been  first  in  Humboldt,  and 
the  townsite  and  a  mile  of  tidelands  fronting  on  deep 
water  were  his;  hence  each  incoming  adventurer  merely 
helped  his  dream  of  a  city  to  come  true. 

At  forty-two  Cardigan  was  the  first  mayor  of  Sequoia. 
At  forty-four  he  was  standing  on  his  dock  one  day, 
watching  his  tug  kick  into  her  berth  the  first  square- 
rigged  ship  that  had  ever  come  to  Humboldt  Bay  to 
load  a  cargo  of  clear  redwood  for  foreign  delivery.  She 
was  a  big  Bath-built  clipper,  and  her  master  a  lusty 
down-Easter,  a  widower  with  one  daughter  who  had 
come  with  him  around  the  Horn.  John  Cardigan  saw 
this  girl  come  up  on  the  quarter-deck  and  stand  by  with 
a  heaving-line  in  lier  hand ;  calmly  she  fixed  her  glance 
upon  him,  and  as  the  ship  was  shunted  in  closer  to  the 
dock,  she  made  the  cast  to  Cardigan.  He  caught  the 
light  heaving-line,  hauled  in  the  heavy  Manila  stern- 
line  to  which  it  was  attached,  and  slipped  the  loop  of 
the  mooring-cable  over  the  dolphin  at  the  end  of  the 
dock. 

"Some  men  wanted  aft  here  to  take  up  the  slack  of 
the  stern-line  on  the  windlass,  sir,"  he  shouted  to  the 
skipper,  who  was  walking  around  on  top  of  the  house. 
"That  girl  can't  haul  her  in  alone." 


12  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Can't.  I'm  short-handed,"  the  skipper  replied* 
"Jump  aboard  and  help  her." 

Cardigan  made  a  long  leap  from  the  dock  to  the 
ship's  rail,  balanced  there  lightly  a  moment,  and  sprang 
to  the  deck.  He  passed  the  bight  of  the  stern-Jine  in  a 
triple  loop  around  the  drum  of  the  windlass,  and  without 
awaiting  his  instructions,  the  girl  grasped  the  slack  oi 
the  line  and  prepared  to  walk  away  with  it  as  the  rope 
paid  in  on  the  windlass.  Cardigan  inserted  a  belaying- 
pin  in  the  windlass,  paused  and  looked  at  the  girl. 
"Raise  a  chantey,"  he  suggested.  Instantly  she  lifted 
a  sweet  contralto  in  that  rollicking  old  ballad  of  the 
sea— "Blow  the  Men  Down." 

For  tinkers  and  tailors  and  lawyers  and  all, 
Way !    Aye !    Blow  the  men  down ! 
They  ship  for  real  sailors  aboard  the  Black  Ball, 
Give  me  some  time  to  blow  the  men  down. 

Round  the  windlass  Cardigan  walked,  steadily  and 
easily,  and  the  girl's  eyes  widened  in  wonder  as  he  did 
the  work  of  three  powerful  men.  When  the  ship  had 
been  warped  in  and  the  slack  of  the  line  made  fast  on 
thebitts,  she  said: 

"Please  run  for'd  and  help  my  father  with  the  bow 
lines.  You're  worth  three  foremast  hands.  Indeed, 
I  didn't  expect  to  see  a  sailor  on  this  dock." 

"I  had  to  come  around  the  Horn  to  get  here,  Miss," 
he  explained,  "and  when  a  man  hasn't  money  to  pay 
for  his  passage,  he  needs  must  work  it." 

"I'm  the  second  mate,"  she  explained.  "We  had  a 
succession  of  gales  from  the  Falklands  to  the  Evan- 
gelistas,  and  there  the  mate  got  her  in  irons  and  she 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  13 

took  three  big  ones  over  the  taffrail  and  cost  us  eight 
men.  Working  short-handed,  we  couldn't  get  any  can 
vas  on  her  to  speak  of — long  voyage,  you  know,  and 
the  rest  of  the  crew  got  scurvy." 

"You're  a  brave  girl,"  he  told  her. 

"And  you're  a  first-class  A.  B.,"  she  replied.  "If 
you're  looking  for  a  berth,  my  father  will  be  glad  to 
ship  you." 

"Sorry,  but  I  can't  go,"  he  called  as  he  turned 
toward  the  companion  ladder.  "I'm  Cardigan,  and  I 
own  this  sawmill  and  must  stay  here  and  look  after  it." 

There  was  a  light,  exultant  feeling  in  his  middle-aged 
heart  as  he  scampered  along  the  deck.  The  girl  had 
wonderful  dark  auburn  hair  and  brown  eyes,  with  a 
rnilk-white  skin  that  sun  and  wind  had  sought  in  vain 
to  blemish.  And  for  all  her  girlhood  she  was  a  woman — • 
bred  from  a  race  (his  own  people)  to  whom  danger  and 
despair  merely  furnished  a  tonic  for  their  courage. 
What  a  mate  for  a  man!  And  she  had  looked  at  him 
pridefully. 

They  were  married  before  the  ship  was  loaded,  and 
on  a  knoll  of  the  logged-over  lands  back  of  the  town 
and  commanding  a  view  of  the  bay,  with  the  dark- 
forested  hilLs  in  back  and  the  little  second-growth  red 
woods  flourishing  in  the  front  yard,  he  built  her  the 
finest  home  in  Sequoia.  He  had  reserved  this  building- 
site  in  a  vague  hope  that  some  day  he  might  utilize  it 
for  this  very  purpose,  and  here  he  spent  with  her  three 
wonderfully  happy  years.  Here  his  son  Bryce  was 
born,  and  here,  two  days  later,  the  new-made  mother 
uiade  the  supreme  sacrifice  of  maternity. 


14  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

For  half  a  day  following  the  destruction  of  his  Eden 
John  Cardigan  sat  dumbly  beside  his  wife,  his  great, 
hard  hand  caressing  the  auburn  head  whose  every 
thought  for  three  years  had  been  his  happiness  and 
comfort.  Then  the  doctor  came  to  him  and  mentioned 
the  matter  of  funeral  arrangements. 

Cardigan  looked  up  at  him  blankly.  "Funeral 
arrangements?"  he  murmured.  "Funeral  arrange 
ments?"  He  passed  his  gnarled  hand  over  his  leonine 
head.  "Ah,  yes,  I  suppose  so.  I  shall  attend  to  it." 

He  rose  and  left  the  house,  walking  with  bowed  head 
out  of  Sequoia,  up  the  abandoned  and  decaying  skid- 
road  through  the  second-growth  redwoods  to  the  dark 
green  blur  that  marked  the  old  timber.  It  was  May, 
and  Nature  was  renewing  herself,  for  spring  come*  late 
in  Humboldt  County.  From  an  alder  thicket  a  pom 
pous  cock  grouse  boomed  intermittently;  the  valley 
quail,  in  pairs,  were  busy  about  their  household  affairs ; 
from  a  clump  of  manzanita  a  buck  watched  John  Car 
digan  curiously.  On  past  the  landing  where  the  big 
bull  donkey-engine  stood  (for  with  the  march  of  prog 
ress,  the  logging  donkey-engine  had  replaced  the  ox- 
teams,  while  the  logs  were  hauled  out  of  the  woods  to 
the  landing  by  means  of  a  mile-long  steel  cable,  and 
there  loaded  on  the  flat-cars  of  a  logging  railroad  to  be 
hauled  to  the  mill  and  dumped  in  the  log-boom)  he 
went,  up  the  skid-road  recently  swamped  from  the 
landing  to  the  down  timber  where  the  crosscut  men  and 
barkpeelers  were  at  work,  on  into  the  green  timber 
where  the  woods-boss  and  his  men  were  chopping. 

"Come  with  me,  McTavish,"  he  said  to  his  woods- 
boss.  They  passed  through  a  narrow  gap  between 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS          15 

t?/o  low  bills  and  emerged  in  a  long  narrow  valley 
where  the  redwood  grew  thickly  and  where  the  smallest 
tree  was  not  less  than  fifteen  feet  in  diameter  and  two 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  tall.  McTavish  followed  at 
the  master's  heels  as  they  penetrated  this  grove,  making 
their  way  with  difficulty  through  the  underbrush  until 
they  came  at  length  to  a  little  amphitheatre,  a  clearing 
perhaps  a  hundred  feet  in  diameter,  oval-shaped  and 
surrounded  by  a  wall  of  redwoods  of  such  dimensions 
that  even  McTavish,  who  was  no  stranger  to  these 
natural  marvels,  was  struck  with  wonder.  The  ground 
in  this  little  amphitheatre  was  covered  to  a  depth  of  a 
foot  with  brown,  withered  little  redwood  twigs  to  which 
the  dead  leaves  still  clung,  while  up  through  this  aro 
matic  covering  delicate  maidenhair  ferns  and  oxalis 
had  thrust  themselves.  Between  the  huge  brown 
boles  of  the  redwoods  woodwardia  grew  riotously> 
while  through  the  great  branches  of  these  sentinels  of 
the  ages  the  sunlight  filtered.  Against  the  prevailing 
twilight  of  the  surrounding  forest  it  descended  like  a 
halo,  and  where  it  struck  the  ground  John  Cardigan 
paused. 

"McTavish,"  he  said," she  died  this  morning." 
"I'm  sore  distressed  for  you,  sir,"  the  woods-boss 
answered.     "We'd  a  whisper  in  the  camp  yesterday 
that  the  lass  was  like  to  be  in  a  bad  way." 

Cardigan  scuffed  with  his  foot  a  clear  space  in  the 
brown  litter.  "Take  two  men  from  the  section-gang; 
McTavish,"  he  ordered,  "and  have  them  dig  her  grave 
here;  then  swamp  a  trail  through  the  underbursh 
and  out  to  the  donkey-landing,  so  we  can  "carry  he/ in, 
The  funeral  will  be  private." 


16  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

McTavish  nodded .  * '  Any  further  orders,  sir ?  '* 
"Yes.  When  you  come  to  that  little  gap  in  the  hills, 
cease  your  logging  and  bear  off  yonder."  He  waved 
his  hand.  "I'm  not  going  to  cut  the  timber  in  this 
valley.  You  see,  McTavish,  what  it  is.  The  trees 
here — ah,  man,  I  haven't  the  heart  to  destroy  God's 
most  wonderful  handiwork.  Besides,  she  loved  this 
spot,  McTavish,  and  she  called  the  valley  her  Valley 
of  the  Giants.  I — I  gave  it  to  her  for  a  wedding  present 
because  she  had  a  bit  of  a  dream  that  some  day  the 
town  I  started  would  grow  up  to  yonder  gap,  and  when 
that  time  came  and  we  could  afford  it,  'twas  in  her  mind 
to  give  her  Valley  of  the  Giants  to  Sequoia  for  a  city 
park,  all  hidden  away  here  and  unsuspected. 

"She  loved  it,  McTavish.  It  pleased  her  to  come 
here  with  me;  she'd  make  up  a  lunch  of  her  own  cooking 
and  I  would  catch  trout  in  the  stream  by  the  dogwoods 
yonder  and  fry  the  fish  for  her.  Sometimes  I'd  bar 
becue  a  venison  steak  and — well,  'twas  our  playhouse, 
McTavish,  and  I  who  am  no  longer  young — I  who  never 
played  until  I  met  her — I — I'm  a  bit  foolish,  I  fear,  but 
I  found  rest  and  comfort  here,  McTavish,  even  before 
I  met  her,  and  I'm  thinking  I'll  have  to  come  here  often 
for  the  same.  She — she  was  a  very  superior  woman. 
McTavish — very  superior.  Ah,  man,  the  soul  of  her! 
I  cannot  bear  that  her  body  should  rest  in  Sequoia 
cemetery,  along  with  the  rag  tag  and  bobtail  o'  the 
town.  She  was  like  this  sunbeam,  McTavish.  She — 

_1  99 

she 

"Aye,"  murmured  McTavish  huskily.  "I  ken.  Ye 
wouldna  gie  her  a  common  or  a  public  spot  in  which 
to  wait  for  ye.  An'  ye'll  be  shuttin'  down  the  mill  an* 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  17 

ioggin'-camps  an'  layin'  off  the  hands  in  her  honour  for 
a  bit?" 

"Until  after  the  funeral,  McTavish.  And  tell  your 
men  they'll  be  paid  for  the  lost  time.  That  will  be  all, 
lad." 

When  McTavish  was  gone,  John  Cardigan  sat  down 
on  a  small  sugar-pine  windfall,  his  head  held  slightly  to 
one  side  while  he  listened  to  that  which  in  the  redwoods 
is  not  sound  but  rather  the  absence  of  it.  And  as  he 
listened,  he  absorbed  a  subtle  comfort  from  those  huge 
brown  trees,  so  emblematic  of  immortality;  in  the 
thought  he  grew  closer  to  his  Maker,  and  presently 
found  that  peace  which  he  sought.  Love  such  as  theirs 
-iould  never  die.  .  .  .  The  tears  came  at  last. 

At  sundown  he  walked  home  bearing  an  armful  of 
rhododendrons  and  dogwood  blossoms,  which  he 
arranged  in  the  room  where  she  lay.  Then  he  sought 
the  nurse  who  had  attended  her. 

"I'd  like  to  hold  my  son,"  he  said  gently.  "May 
I?" 

She  brought  him  the  baby  and  placed  it  in  his  great 
arms  that  trembled  so;  he  sat  down  and  gazed  long  and 
earnestly  at  this  flesh  of  his  flesh  and  blood  of  his  blood. 
"You'll  have  her  hair  and  skin  and  eyes,"  he  murmured. 
"My  son,  my  son,  I  shall  love  you  so,  for  now  I  mast 
love  for  two.  Sorrow  I  shall  keep  from  you,  please 
God,  and  happiness  and  worldly  comfort  shall  I  leave 
you  when  I  go  to  her."  H-?  nuzzled  his  grizzled  cheek 
against  the  baby's  face.  "Just  you  and  my  trees," 
he  whispered,  "just  you  and  my  trees  to  help  me 
hang  on  to  a  plucky  finish." 

For  love  and  paternity  had  come  to  him  late  in  Jifer 


18          THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

and  so  had  his  first  great  sorrow;  wherefore,  since  he  was 
not  accustomed  to  these  heritages  of  all  flesh,  he  would 
have  to  adjust  himself  to  the  change.  But  his  son  and 
his  trees — ah,  yes,  they  would  help.  And  he  would 
gather  more  redwoods  now! 


CHAPTER  HI 

fa* 

A  YOUNG  half-breed  Digger  woman,  who  had 
suffered  the  loss  of  the  latest  of  her  numerous 
progeny  two  days  prior  to  Mrs.  Cardigan's 
death,  was  installed  in  the  house  on  the  knoll  as  nurse 
to  John  Cardigan's  son  whom  he  called  Bryce,  the 
family  name  of  his  mother's  people.  A  Mrs.  Tully, 
widow  of  Cardigan's  first  engineer  in  the  mill,  was  en 
gaged  as  housekeeper  and  cook;  and  with  his  domestic 
establishment  reorganized  along  these  simple  lines, 
John  Cardigan  turned  with  added  eagerness  to  his 
business  affairs,  hoping  between  them  and  his  boy  to 
salvage  as  much  as  possible  from  what  seemed  to  him, 
in  the  first  pangs  of  his  loneliness  and  desolation,  the 
wreckage  of  his  life. 

While  Bryce  was  in  swaddling  clothes,  he  was  known 
only  to  those  females  of  Sequoia  to  whom  his  half-breed 
foster  mother  proudly  exhibited  him  when  taking  him 
abroad  for  an  airing  in  his  perambulator.  With  his 
advent  into  rompers,  however,  and  the  assumption  of 
his  American  prerogative  of  free  speech,  his  father 
developed  the  habit  of  bringing  the  child  down  to  the 
mill  office,  to  which  he  added  a  playroom  that  connected 
with  his  private  office.  Hence,  prior  to  his  second 
birthday,  Bryce  divined  that  his  father  was  closer  to 
him  than  motherly  Mrs.  Tully  or  the  half-breed  girl, 
albeit  the  housekeeper  sang  to  him  the  lullabys  that 

19 


20  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

mothers  know  while  the  Digger  girl,  improvising  blank 
verse  paeans  of  praise  and  prophecy,  crooned  them  to 
her  charge  in  the  unmusical  monotone  of  her  tribal 
tongue.  His  father,  on  the  contrary,  wasted  no  time 
in  singing,  but  would  toss  him  to  the  ceiling  or  set 
him  astride  his  foot  and  swing  him  until  he  screamed 
in  ecstasy.  Moreover,  his  father  took  him  on  wonderful 
journeys  which  no  other  member  of  the  household  had 
even  suggested.  Together  they  were  wont  to  ride  to 
and  from  the  woods  in  the  cab  of  the  logging  locomotive, 
and  once  they  both  got  on  the  log  carriage  in  the  mill 
with  Dan  Keyes,  the  head  sawyer,  and  had  a  jolly  ride 
up  to  the  saw  and  back  again,  up  and  back  again  until 
the  log  had  been  completely  sawed ;  and  because  he  had 
refrained  from  crying  aloud  when  the  greedy  saw  bit 
into  the  log  with  a  shrill  whine,  Dan  Keyes  had  given 
him  a  nickel  to  put  in  his  tin  bank. 

Of  all  their  adventures  together,  however,  those 
which  occurred  on  their  frequent  excursions  up  to  the 
Valley  of  the  Giants  impressed  themselves  imperishably 
upon  Bryce's  memory.  How  well  he  remembered 
their  first  trip,  when,  seated  astride  his  father's  shoulders 
with  his  sturdy  little  legs  around  Cardigan's  neck  and 
his  chubby  little  hands  clasping  the  old  man's  ears, 
they  had  gone  up  the  abandoned  skid-road  and  into 
the  semi-darkness  of  the  forest,  terminating  suddenly 
in  a  shower  of  sunshine  that  fell  in  an  open  space  where 
a  boy  could  roll  and  play  and  never  get  dirty.  Also 
there  were  several  dozen  gray  squirrels  there  waiting 
to  climb  on  his  shoulder  and  search  his  pockets  for 
pine-nuts,  a  supply  of  which  his  father  always  furnished. 

Bryce  always  looked  forward  with  eagerness  to  thos$ 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  21 

frequent  trips  with  his  father  "to  the  place  wheie 
Mother  dear  went  to  heaven."  From  his  perch  on 
his  father's  shoulders  he  could  look  vast  distances  into 
the  underbrush  and  catch  glimpses  of  the  wild  life 
therein;  when  the  last  nut  had  been  distributed  to  the 
squirrels  in  the  clearing,  he  would  follow  a  flash  of  blue 
that  was  a  jay  high  up  among  the  evergreen  branches, 
or  a  flash  of  red  that  was  a  woodpecker  hammering  a 
home  in  the  bark  of  a  sugar-pine.  Eventually,  how 
ever,  the  spell  of  the  forest  would  creep  over  the  child; 
intuitively  he  would  become  one  with  the  all-pervading 
silence,  climb  into  his  father's  arms  as  the  latter  sat 
dreaming  on  the  old  sugar-pine  windfall,  and  presently 
drop  off  to  sleep. 

When  Bryce  was  six  years  old,  his  father  sent  him  to 
the  public  school  in  Sequoia  with  the  children  of  his 
loggers  and  mill-hands,  thus  laying  the  foundation  for 
a  democratic  education  all  too  infrequent  with  the  sons 
of  men  rated  as  millionaires.  At  night  old  Cardigan 
(for  so  men  had  now  commenced  to  designate  him!) 
would  hear  his  boy's  lessons,  taking  the  while  an  im 
measurable  delight  in  watching  the  lad's  mind  develop. 
As  a  pupil  Bryce  was  not  meteoric;  he  had  his  father's 
patient,  unexcitable  nature;  and,  like  the  old  man,  he 
possessed  the  glorious  gift  of  imagination.  Never 
mediocre,  he  was  never  especially  brilliant,  but  was 
seemingly  content  to  maintain  a  steady,  dependable 
average  in  all  things.  He  had  his  mother's  dark 
auburn  hair,  brown  eyes,  and  fair  white  skin,  and  quite 
early  in  life  he  gave  promise  of  being  as  large  and 
powerful  a  man  as  his  father. 

Bryce's  boyhood  was  much  the  same  ,MS  that  of  other 


22  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

lads  in  Sequoia,  save  that  in  the  matter  of  toys  and, 
later  guns,  fishing-rods,  dogs,  and  ponies  he  was  a 
source  of  envy  to  his  fellows.  After  his  tenth  year 
his  father  placed  him  on  the  mill  pay-roll,  and  on  pay 
day  he  was  wont  to  line  up  with  the  mill-crew  to  receive 
his  modest  stipend  of  ten  dollars  for  carrying  in  kindling 
to  the  cook  in  the  mill  kitchen  each  day  after  school. 

This  otherwise  needless  arrangement  was  old  Car 
digan's  way  of  teaching  his  boy  financial  responsibility. 
All  that  he  possessed  he  had  worked  for,  and  he  wanted 
his  son  to  grow  up  with  the  business  to  realize  that  he 
was  a  part  of  it  with  definite  duties  connected  with  it 
developing  upon  him — duties  which  he  must  never 
shirk  if  he  was  to  retain  the  rich  redwood  heritage  his 
father  had  been  so  eagerly  storing  up  for  him. 

When  Bryce  Cardigan  was  about  fourteen  years  old 
there  occurred  an  important  event  in  his  life.  In  a 
commendable  effort  to  increase  his  income  he  had 
laid  out  a  small  vegetable  garden  in  the  rear  of  his 
father's  house,  and  here  on  a  Saturday  morning,  while 
down  on  his  knees  weeding  carrots,  he  chanced  to  look 
up  and  discovered  a  young  lady  gazing  at  him  through 
the  picket  fence.  She  was  a  few  years  his  junior,  and  a 
stranger  in  Sequoia.  Ensued  the  following  conversa 
tion:  "Hello,  little  boy." 

"  Hello  yourself !     I  ain't  a  little  boy." 

She  ignored  the  correction.     "What  are  you  doing?" 

"  Weedin'  carrots.     Can't  you  see? " 

"What  for?" 

Bryce,  highly  incensed  at  having  been  designated  a 
little  boy  by  this  superior  damsel,  saw  his  opportunity 
to  silence  her.  "Cat's  fur  for  kitten  breeches,"  he  re- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  23 

torted — without  any  evidence  of  originality,  we  must 
confess.  Whereat  she  stung  him  to  the  heart  with  a 
sweet  smile  and  promptly  sang  for  him  this  ancient 
ballad  of  childhood: 

"What  are  little  boys  made  of? 
What  are  little  boys  made  of? 
Snakes  and  snails, 
And  puppy  dog's  tails, 
And  that's  what  little  boys  are  made  of." 

Bryce  knew  the  second  verse  and  shrivelled  inwardly 
in  anticipation  of  being  informed  that  little  girls  are 
made  of  sugar  and  spice  and  every  thing  nice.  Realiz 
ing  that  he  had  begun  something  which  might  not 
terminate  with  credit  to  himself,  he  hung  his  head  and 
for  the  space  of  several  minutes  gave  all  his  attention 
to  his  crop.  And  presently  the  visitor  spoke  again. 

"I  like  your  hair,  little  boy.     It's  a  pretty  red." 

That  settled  the  issue  between  them.  To  be  hailed 
as  little  boy  was  bad  enough,  but  to  be  reminded  of 
his  crowning  misfortune  was  adding  insult  to  injury. 
He  rose  and  cautiously  approached  the  fence  with  the 
intention  of  pinching  the  impudent  stranger,  suddenly 
and  surreptitiously,  and  sending  her  away  weeping. 
As  his  hand  crept  between  the  palings  on  its  wicked 
mission,  the  little  miss  looked  at  him  in  friendly  fashion 
and  queried: 

"What's  your  name?" 

Bryce's  hand  hesitated.  "Bryce  Cardigan,"  he  an 
swered  gruffly. 

"I'm  Shirley  Sumner,"  she  ventured.  "Let's  be 
friends." 


24  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"When  did  you  come  to  live  in  Sequoia? "he  d<> 
manded. 

"I  don't  live  here.  I'm  just  visiting  here  with  my 
aunt  and  uncle.  We're  staying  at  the  hotel,  and  there's 
nobody  to  play  with.  My  uncle's  name  is  Pennington. 
So's  my  aunt's.  He*s  out  here  buying  timber,  and  we 
live  in  Michigan.  Do  you  know  the  capital  of  Mich 
igan?" 

"Of  course  I  do,"  he  answered.  "The  capital  of 
Michigan  is  Chicago." 

"  Oh,  you  big  stupid !    It  isn't.     It's  Detroit." 

"  'Tain't  neither.     It's  Chicago." 

"  I  live  there — so  I  guess  I  ought  to  know.     So  there ! " 

Bryce  was  vanquished,  and  an  acute  sense  of  his  im 
perfections  in  matters  geographical  inclined  him  to  end 
the  argument.  "Well,  maybe  you're  right,"  he  ad 
mitted  grudgingly.  "Anyhow,  what  difference  does  it 
make?" 

She  did  not  answer.  Evidently  she  was  desirous 
of  avoiding  an  argument  if  possible.  Her  gaze  wan 
dered  past  Bryce  to  where  his  Indian  pony  stood  with 
her  head  out  the  window  of  her  box-stall  contemplating 
her  master. 

"Oh,  what  a  dear  little  horse!"  Shirley  Sumner  ex 
claimed.  "  Whose  is  he?  " 

"Tain't  a  he.     It's  a  she.     And  she  belongs  to  me." 

"'Do  you  ride  her?" 

"Not  very  often  now.  I'm  getting  too  heavy 
for  her,  so  Dad's  bought  me  a  horse  that  weighs 
nine  hundred  pounds.  Midget  only  weighs  five 
hundred."  He  considered  her  a  moment  while  she 
gazed  in  awe  upon  this  man  with  two  horses.  "Can 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  25 

you  ride  a  pony?"  he  asked,  for  no  reason  that  he 
was  aware  of. 

She  sighed,  shaking  her  head  resignedly.  "We 
haven't  any  room  to  keep  a  pony  at  our  house  in  De 
troit,"  she  explained,  and  added  hopefully:  "But  I'd 
love  to  ride  on  Midget.  I  suppose  I  could  learn  to 
ride  if  somebody  taught  me  how." 

He  looked  at  her  again.  At  that  period  of  his  exis 
tence  he  was  inclined  to  regard  girls  as  a  necessary 
evil.  For  some  immutable  reason  they  existed,  and 
perforce  must  be  borne  with,  and  it  was  his  hope  that 
he  would  get  through  life  and  see  as  little  as  possible 
of  the  exasperating  sex.  Nevertheless,  as  Bryce  sur 
veyed  this  winsome  miss  through  the  palings,  he  was 
sensible  of  a  sneaking  desire  to  find  favour  in  her  eyes — 
also  equally  sensible  of  the  fact  that  the  path  to  that 
desirable  end  lay  between  himself  and  Midget.  He 
swelled  with  the  importance  of  one  who  knows  he  con 
trols  a  delicate  situation. 

"Well,  I  suppose  if  you  want  a  ride  I'll  have  to  give  it 
to  you,"  he  grumbled,  "although  I'm  mighty  busy 
this  morning." 

"Oh,  I  think  you're  so  nice,"  she  declared. 

A  thrill  shot  through  him  that  was  akin  to  pain;  with 
difficulty  did  he  restrain  an  impulse  to  dash  wildly  into 
the  stable  and  saddle  Midget  in  furious  haste.  Instead 
he  walked  to  the  barn  slowly  and  with  extreme  dignity. 
When  he  reappeared,  he  was  leading  Midget,  a  little 
silverpoint  runt  of  a  TQamath  Indian  pony,  and  Moses,  a 
sturdy  pinto  cayuse  from  the  cattle  ranges  over  in  Trinity 
County.  "I'll  have  to  ride  with  you,"  he  announced. 
"Can't  let  a  tenderfoot  like  you  go  out  alone  on  Midget.'1 


26          THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

All  aflutter  with  delightful  anticipation,  the  young 
lady  climbed  up  on  the  gate  and  scrambled  into  the 
saddle  when  Bryce  swung  the  pony  broadside  to  the 
gate.  Then  he  adjusted  the  stirrups  to  fit  her,  passed 
a  hair  rope  from  Midget's  little  hackamore  to  the 
pommel  of  Moses*  saddle,  mounted  the  pinto,  and  pro 
ceeded  with  his  first  adventure  as  a  riding-master. 
Two  hours  of  his  valuable  time  did  he  give  that  morn 
ing  before  the  call  of  duty  brought  him  back  to  the 
house  and  his  neglected  crop  of  carrots.  When  he 
suggested  tactfully,  however,  that  it  was  now  necessary 
that  his  guest  and  Midget  separate,  a  difficulty  arose. 
Shirley  Sumner  refused  point  blank  to  leave  the  premises. 
She  liked  Bryce  for  his  hair  and  because  he  had  been  so 
kind  to  her;  she  was  a  stranger  in  Sequoia,  and  now  that 
she  had  found  an  agreeable  companion,  it  was  far  from 
her  intention  to  desert  him. 

So  Miss  Sumner  stayed  and  helped  Bryce  weed  his 
carrots,  and  since  as  a  voluntary  labourer  she  was  at 
least  worth  her  board,  at  noon  Bryce  brought  her  in  to 
Mrs.  Tully  with  a  request  for  luncheon.  When  he 
went  to  the  mill  to  carry  in  the  kindling  for  the  cook, 
the  young  lady  returned  rather  sorrowfully  to  the 
Hotel  Sequoia,  with  a  fervent  promise  to  see  him  the 
next  day.  She  did,  and  Bryce  took  her  for  a  long  ride 
up  into  the  Valley  of  the  Giants  and  showed  her  his 
mother's  grave.  The  gray  squirrels  were  there,  and 
Bryce  gave  Shirley  a  bag  of  pine-nuts  to  feed  them. 
Then  they  put  some  flowers  on  the  grave,  and  when  they 
returned  to  town  and  Bryce  was  unsaddling  the  ponies, 
Shirley  drew  Midget's  nose  down  to  her  and  kissed  it. 
Then  she  commenced  to  weep  rather  violently. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  27 

"What  are  you  crying  about?"  Bryce  demanded. 
Girls  were  so  hard  to  understand. 

"I'm  go-going  h-h-h-home  to-morrow,"  she  howled. 

He  was  stricken  with  dismay  and  bade  her  desist 
from  her  vain  repinings.  But  her  heart  was  broken, 
and  somehow — Bryce  appeared  to  act  automatically— 
he  had  his  arm  around  her.  "Don't  cry,  Shirley,"  he 
pleaded.  "It  breaks  my  heart  to  see  you  cry.  Do 
you  want  Midget?  I'll  give  her  to  you." 

Between  sobs  Shirley  confessed  that  the  prospect  of 
parting  with  him  and  not  Midget  was  provocative 
of  her  woe.  This  staggered  Bryce  and  pleased  him  im 
mensely.  And  at  parting  she  kissed  him  good-bye, 
reiterating  her  opinion  that  he  was  the  nicest,  kindest 
boy  she  had  ever  met  or  hoped  to  meet. 

When  Shirley  and  her  uncle  and  aunt  boarded  the 
steamer  for  San  Francisco,  Bryce  stood  disconsolate 
on  the  dock  and  waved  to  Shirley  until  he  could  no 
longer  discern  her  on  the  deck.  Then  he  went  home, 
crawled  up  into  the  haymow  and  wept,  for  he  had 
something  in  his  heart  and  it  hurt.  He  thought  of  his 
elfin  companion  very  frequently  for  a  week,  and  he 
lost  his  appetite,  very  much  to  Mrs.  Tully's  concern. 
Then  the  steelhead  trout  began  to  run  in  Eel  River,  and 
the  sweetest  event  that  can  occur  in  any  boy's  exis 
tence — the  sudden  awakening  to  the  wonder  and  beauty 
of  life  so  poignantly  realized  in  his  first  love-affair — • 
was  lost  sight  of  by  Bryce.  In  a  month  he  had  for 
gotten  the  incident;  in  six  months  he  had  forgotten 
Shirley  Sunnier. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  succeeding  years  of  Bryce  Cardigan's  life, 
until  he  completed  his  high-school  studies  and 
went  East  to  Princeton,  were  those  of  the  or 
dinary  youth  in  a  small  and  somewhat  primitive 
country  town.  He  made  frequent  trips  to  San  Fran 
cisco  with  his  father,  taking  passage  on  the  steamer 
that  made  bi-weekly  trips  between  Sequoia  and  the 
metropolis — as  The  Sequoia  Sentinel  always  referred  to 
San  Francisco.  He  was  an  expert  fisherman,  and  the 
best  shot  with  rifle  or  shot-gun  in  the  county ;  he  delighted 
in  sports  and,  greatly  to  the  secret  delight  of  his  father , 
showed  a  profound  interest  in  the  latter's  business. 

Throughout  the  happy  years  of  Bryce's  boyhood 
his  father  continued  to  enlarge  and  improve  his  sawmill, 
to  build  more  schooners,  and  to  acquire  more  redwood 
timber.  Lands,  the  purchase  of  which  by  Cardigan  a 
decade  before  had  caused  his  neighbours  to  impugn 
his  judgment,  now  developed  strategical  importance. 
As  a  result  those  lands  necessary  to  consolidate  his 
own  holdings  came  to  him  at  his  own  price,  while  his 
adverse  holdings  that  blocked  the  logging  operations 
of  his  competitors  went  from  him — also  at  his  own 
price.  In  fact,  all  well-laid  plans  matured  satisfactorily 
with  the  exception  of  one,  and  since  it  has  a  very  defi 
nite  bearing  on  the  story,  the  necessity  for  explaining  it 
is  paramount. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS          29 

Contiguous  to  Cardigan's  logging  operations  to  the 
east  and  north  of  Sequoia,  and  comparatively  close 
in,  lay  a  block  of  two  thousand  acres  of  splendid  timber, 
the  natural,  feasible,  and  inexpensive  outlet  for  which, 
when  it  should  be  logged,  was  the  Valley  of  the  Giants. 
For  thirty  years  John  Cardigan  had  played  a  waiting 
game  with  the  owner  of  that  timber,  for  the  latter  was 
as  fully  obsessed  with  the  belief  that  he  was  going  to 
sell  it  to  John  Cardigan  at  a  dollar  and  a  half  per 
thousand  feet  stumpage  as  Cardigan  was  certain  he 
was  going  to  buy  it  for  a  dollar  a  thousand — when  he 
should  be  ready  to  do  so  and  not  one  second  sooner. 
He  calculated,  as  did  the  owner  of  the  timber,  that  the 
time  to  do  business  would  be  a  year  or  two  before  the 
last  of  Cardigan's  timber  in  that  section  should  be 
gone. 

Eventually  the  time  for  acquiring  more  timber  arrived. 
John  Cardigan,  meeting  his  neighbour  on  the  street, 
accosted  him  thus: 

"Look  here,  Bill:  isn't  it  time  we  got  together  on 
that  timber  of  yours?  You  know  you've  been  holding 
it  to  block  me  and  force  me  to  buy  at  your  figure." 

"That's  why  I  bought  it,"  the  other  admitted 
smilingly.  "Then,  before  I  realized  my  position,  you 
checkmated  me  with  that  quarter-section  in  the  valley, 
and  we've  been  deadlocked  ever  since." 

"I'll  give  you  a  dollar  a  thousand  stumpage  for  your 
timber,  Bill." 

"I  want  a  dollar  and  a  half." 

"A  dollar  is  my  absolute  limit," 

"Then  I'll  keep  my  timber." 

"And  I'll  keep  my  money.     When  I  finish  logging 


SO          THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

in  my  present  holdings,  I'm  going  to  pull  out  of  that 
country  and  log  twenty  miles  south  of  Sequoia.  I 
have  ten  thousand  acres  in  the  San  Hedrin  watershed. 
Remember,  Bill,  the  man  who  buys  your  timber  will 
have  to  log  it  through  my  land — and  I'm  not  going  to 
log  that  quarter-section  in  the  valley.  Hence  there  will 
be  no  outlet  for  your  timber  in  back." 

"Not  going  to  log  it?  Why,  what  are  you  going  to 
do  with  it?" 

"I'm  just  going  to  let  it  stay  there  until  I  die.  When 
my  will  is  filed  for  probate,  your  curiosity  will  be  sat 
isfied — but  not  until  then." 

The  other  laughed.  "John,"  he  declared,  "you 
just  haven't  got  the  courage  to  pull  out  when  your 
timber  adjoining  mine  is  gone,  and  move  twenty  miles 
south  to  the  San  Hedrin  watershed.  That  will  be  too 
expensive  a  move,  and  you'll  only  be  biting  off  your 
nose  to  spite  your  face.  Come  through  with  a  dollar 
and  a  half,  John." 

"I  never  bluff,  Bill.  Remember,  if  I  pull  out  for  the 
San  Hedrin,  I'll  not  abandon  my  logging-camps  there 
to  come  back  and  log  your  timber.  One  expensive 
move  is  enough  for  me.  Better  take  a  dollar,  Bill. 
It's  a  good,  fair  price,  as  the  market  on  redwood  timber 
is  now,  and  you'll  be  making  an  even  hundred  per  cent, 
on  your  investment.  Remember,  Bill,  if  I  don't  buy 
your  timber,  you'll  never  log  it  yourself  and  neither 
will  anybody  else.  You'll  be  stuck  with  it  for  the  next 
forty  years — and  taxes  aren't  getting  any  lower.  Be 
sides,  there's  a  good  deal  of  pine  and  fir  in  there,  and 
you  know  what  a  forest  fire  will  do  to  that." 

Til  hang  on  a  little  longe**,  I  think." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  31 

"I  think  so,  too,"  John  Cardigan  replied.  And  that 
night,  as  was  his  wont,  even  though  he  realized  that 
it  was  not  possible  for  Bryce  to  gain  a  profound  under 
standing  of  the  business  problems  to  which  he  was 
heir,  John  Cardigan  discussed  the  Squaw  Creek  timber 
with  his  son,  relating  to  him  the  details  of  his  conver 
sation  with  the  owner. 

"I  suppose  he  thinks  you're  bluffing,"  Bryce  com 
mented. 

"I'm  not,  Bryce.  I  never  bluff — that  is,  I  never 
permit  a  bluff  of  mine  to  be  called,  and  don't  you  ever 
do  it,  either.  Remember  that,  boy.  Any  time  you 
deliver  a  verdict,  be  sure  you're  in  such  a  position  you 
won't  have  to  reverse  yourself.  I'm  going  to  finish 
logging  in  that  district  this  fall,  so  if  I'm  to  keep  the 
mill  running,  I'll  have  to  establish  my  camps  on  the 
San  Hedrin  watershed  right  away." 

Bryce  pondered.  "But  isn't  it  cheaper  to  give  him 
his  price  on  Squaw  Creek  timber  than  go  logging  in  the 
San  Hedrin  and  have  to  build  twenty  miles  of  logging 
railroad  to  get  your  logs  to  the  mill?" 

"It  would  be,  son,  if  I  had  to  build  the  railroad. 
Fortunately,  I  do  not.  I'll  just  shoot  the  logs  down 
the  hillside  to  the  San  Hedrin  River  and  drive  them 
down  the  stream  to  a  log-boom  on  tidewater." 

"But  there  isn't  enough  water  in  the  San  Hedrin  to 
float  a  redwood  log,  Dad.  I've  fished  there,  and  I 
know." 

"Quite  true — in  the  summer  and  fall.  But  when 
the  winter  freshets  come  on  and  the  snow  begins  to 
melt  in  the  spring  up  in  the  Yola  Bolas,  where  the  San 
Hedrin  has  its  source,  we'll  have  plenty  of  water  for 


/32  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

driving  the  river.  Once  we  get  the  logs  down  to  tide 
water,  we'll  raft  them  and  tow  them  up  to  the  mill. 
So  you  see,  Bryce,  we  won't  be  bothered  with  the 
expense  of  maintaining  a  logging  railroad,  as  at  present." 

Bryce  looked  at  his  father  admiringly.  "I  guess 
Dan  Keyes  is  right,  Dad,"  he  said.  "Dan  says  you're 
crazy — like  a  fox.  Now  I  know  why  you've  been 
picking  up  claims  in  the  San  Hedrin  watershed." 

"No,  you  don't,  Bryce.  I've  never  told  you,  but 
I'll  tell  you  now  the  real  reason.  Humboldt  County 
has  no  rail  connection  with  the  outside  world,  so  we  are 
forced  to  ship  our  lumber  by  water.  But  some  day  a 
railroad  will  be  built  in  from  the  south — from  San  Fran* 
cisco;  and  when  it  comes,  the  only  route  for  it  to  travel 
is  through  our  timber  in  the  San  Hedrin  Valley.  I've 
accumulated  that  ten  thousand  acres  for  you,  my  son, 
for  the  railroad  will  never  be  built  in  my  day.  It 
may  come  in  yours,  but  I  have  grown  weary  waiting 
for  it,  and  now  that  my  hand  is  forced,  I'm  going  to 
start  logging  there.  It  doesn't  matter,  son.  You  will 
still  be  logging  there  fifty  years  from  now.  And  when 
the  railroad  people  come  to  you  for  a  right  of  way,  my 
boy,  give  it  to  them.  Don't  charge  them  a  cent.  It 
has  always  been  my  policy  to  encourage  the  develop 
ment  of  this  county,  and  I  want  you  to  be  a  forward- 
looking,  public-spirited  citizen.  That's  why  I'm  send 
ing  you  East  to  college.  You've  been  born  and  raised 
in  this  town,  and  you  must  see  more  of  the  world.  You 
mustn't  be  narrow  or  provincial,  because  I'm  saving 
up  for  you,  my  son,  a  great  many  responsibilities,  and 
I  want  to  educate  you  to  meet  them  bravely  and 
sensibly." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  33 

He  paused,  regarding  the  boy  gravely  and  tenderly. 
"Bryce,  lad,"  lie  said  presently,  "do  you  ever  wonder 
why  I  work  so  hard  and  barely  manage  to  spare  the 
time  to  go  camping  with  you  in  vacation  time?  " 

"Why  don't  you  take  it  easy,  Dad?  You  do  work 
awfully  hard,  and  I  have  wondered  about  it." 

"I  have  to  work  hard,  my  son,  because  I  started 
something  a  long  time  ago,  when  work  was  fun.  And 
now  I  can't  let  go.  I  employ  too  many  people  who 
are  dependent  on  me  for  their  bread  and  butter. 
When  they  plan  a  marriage  or  the  building  of  a  home 
or  the  purchase  of  a  cottage  organ,  they  have  to  figure 
me  in  on  the  proposition.  I  didn't  have  a  name  for 
the  part  I  played  in  these  people's  lives  until  the  other 
nipbt  when  I  was  helping  you  with  your  algebra.  I'm 
the  unknown  quantity." 

"Oh,  no,"  Bryce  protested.  "You're  the  known 
quantity." 

Cardigan  smiled.  "Well,  maybe  I  am,"  he  admitted. 
"I've  always  tried  to  be.  And  if  I  have  succeeded, 
then  you're  the  unknown  quantity,  Bryce,  because 
some  day  you'll  have  to  take  my  place;  they  will  have 
to  depend  upon  you  when  I  am  gone.  Listen  to  me, 
son.  You're  only  a  boy,  and  you  can't  understand 
everything  I  tell  you  now,  but  I  want  you  to  remember 
what  I  tell  you,  and  some  day  understanding  will  come 
to  you.  You  mustn't  fail  the  people  who  work  for 
you — who  are  dependent  upon  your  strength  and 
brains  and  enterprises  to  furnish  them  with  an  oppor 
tunity  for  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness. 
When  you  are  the  boss  of  Cardigan's  mill,  you  must 
keep  the  wheels  turning;  you  must  never  shut  down 


34  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

the  mill  or  the  logging-camps  in  dull  times  just  to  avoid! 
a  loss  you  can  stand  better  than  your  employees." 

His  hard,  trembling  old  hand  closed  over  the  boy's. 
"I  want  you  to  be  a  brave  and  honourable  man,"  he 
concluded. 

True  to  his  word,  when  John  Cardigan  finished  his 
logging  in  his  old,  original  holdings  adjacent  to  Sequoia 
and  Bill  Henderson's  Squaw  Creek  timber,  he  quietly 
moved  south  with  his  Squaw  Creek  woods-gang  and 
joined  the  crew  already  getting  out  logs  in  the  San 
Hedrin  watershed.  Not  until  then  did  Bill  Henderson 
realize  that  John  Cardigan  had  called  his  bluff — whereat 
he  cursed  himself  for  a  fool  and  a  poor  judge  of  human 
nature.  He  had  tried  a  hold-up  game  and  had  failed; 
a  dollar  a  thousand  feet  stumpage  was  a  fair  price;  for 
years  he  had  needed  the  money;  and  now,  when  it  was 
too  late,  he  realized  his  error.  Luck  was  with  Hender 
son,  however;  for  shortly  thereafter  there  came  again 
to  Sequoia  one  Colonel  Seth  Pennington,  a  millionaire 
white-pine  operator  from  Michigan.  The  Colonel's 
Michigan  lands  had  been  logged  off,  and  since  he  had 
had  one  taste  of  cheap  timber,  having  seen  fifty -cent 
stumpage  go  to  five  dollars,  the  Colonel,  like  Oliver 
Twist,  desired  some  more  of  the  same.  On  his  previous 
visit  to  Sequoia  he  had  seen  his  chance  awaiting  him  in 
the  gradually  decreasing  market  for  redwood  lumber 
and  the  corresponding  increase  of  melancholia  in  the 
redwood  operators ;  hence  he  had  returned  to  Michigan, 
closed  out  his  business  interests  there,  and  returned  to 
Sequoia  on  the  alert  for  an  investment  in  redwood 
timber.  From  a  chair-warmer  on  the  porch  of  the 
Hotel  Sequoia,  the  Colonel  had  heard  the  tale  of  how 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GL\NTS     35 

stiff-necked  old  John  Cardigan  had  called  the  bluff  of 
equally  stiff-necked  old  Bill  Henderson;  so  for  the 
next  few  weeks  the  Colonel,  under  pretense  of  going 
hunting  or  fishing  on  Squaw  Creek,  managed  to  make 
a  fairly  accurate  cursory  cruise  of  the  Henderson  tim 
ber — following  which  he  purchased  it  from  the  delighted 
Bill  for  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  per  thousand  feet  stump- 
«,ge  and  paid  for  it  with  a  certified  check.  With  his 
check  in  his  hand,  Henderson  queried: 

"Colonel,  how  do  you  purpose  logging  that  timber?" 

The  Colonel  smiled.  "Oh,  I  don't  intend  to  log  it. 
When  I  log  timber,  it  has  to  be  more  accessible.  I'm 
just  going  to  hold  on  and  outgame  your  former  prospect, 
John  Cardigan.  He  needs  that  timber;  he  has  to  have 
it — and  one  of  these  days  he'll  pay  me  two  dollars  for 
it." 

Bill  Henderson  raised  an  admonitory  finger  and 
shook  it  under  the  Colonel's  nose.  "  Hear  me,  stranger/' 
he  warned.  "When  you  know  John  Cardigan  as  well 
as  I  do,  you'll  change  your  tune.  He  doesn't  bluff." 

"He  doesn't?"  The  Colonel  laughed  derisively. 
"Why,  that  move  of  his  over  to  the  San  Hedrin  was  the 
most  monumental  bluff  ever  pulled  off  in  this  country." 

"All  right,  sir.     You  wait  and  see." 

"I've  seen  already.     I  know." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"Well,  for  one  thing,  Henderson,  I  noticed  Cardigan 
has  carefully  housed  his  rolling-stock — and  he  hasn't 
scrapped  his  five  miles  of  logging  railroad  and  three 
miles  of  spurs." 

Old  Bill  Henderson  chewed  his  quid  of  tobacco  re- 
^lectively  and  spat  at  a  crack  in  the  sidewalk.  "No," 


36  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

he  replied,  "I'll  admit  he  ain't  started  scrappin'  it  yet, 
but  I  happen  to  know  he's  sold  the  rollin'-stock  an' 
rails  to  the  Freshwater  Lumber  Company,  so  I  reckon 
they'll  be  scrappin'  that  railroad  for  him  before  long. 

The  Colonel  was  visibly  moved.  "If  your  infor 
mation  is  authentic,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  suppose  I'll 
have  to  build  a  mill  on  tidewater  and  log  the  timber/' 

"  'Twon't  pay  you  to  do  that  at  the  present  price  of 
redwood  lumber." 

"I'm  in  no  hurry.     I  can  wait  for  better  times." 

"Well,  when  better  times  arrive,  you'll  find  that 
John  Cardigan  owns  the  only  water-front  property 
on  this  side  of  the  bay  where  the  water's  deep  enough 
to  let  a  ship  lie  at  low  tide  and  load  in  safety." 

"There  is  deep  water  across  the  bay  and  plenty  of 
water-front  property  for  sale.  I'll  find  a  mill-site  there 
and  tow  my  logs  across." 

"But  you've  got  to  dump  'em  in  the  water  on  this 
side.  Everything  north  of  Cardigan's  mill  is  tide-flat; 
he  owns  all  the  deep-water  frontage  for  a  mile  south  of 
Sequoia,  and  after  that  come  more  tide-flats.  If  you 
dump  your  logs  on  these  tide-flats,  they'll  bog  down  in 
the  mud,  and  there  isn't  water  enough  at  high  tide  to 
float  'em  off  or  let  a  tug  go  in  an'  snake  'em  off." 

"You're  a  discouraging  sort  of  person,"  the  Colonel 
declared  irritably.  "I  suppose  you'll  tell  me  now  that  I 
can't  log  my  timber  without  permission  from  Cardigan." 

Old  Bill  spat  at  another  crack;  his  faded  blue  eyes 
twinkled  mischievously.  "No,  that's  where  you've 
got  the  bulge  on  John,  Colonel.  You  can  build  a  log 
ging  railroad  from  the  southern  fringe  of  your  timber 
north  and  up  a  ten  per  cent,  grade  on  the  far  side  of 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 


37 


the  Squaw  Creek  watershed,  then  west  three  miles  around 
a  spur  of  low  hills,  and  then  south  eleven  miles  through 
the  level  country 
along  the  bay  shore. 
If  you  want  to  re 
duce  your  Squaw 
Creek  grade  to  say 
two  per  cent.,  figure 
on  ten  additional 
miles  of  railroad  and 
a  couple  extra  loco 
motives.  You  un 
derstand,  of  course, 
Colonel,  that  no 
Locomotive  can  haul 
a  long  trainload  of 
redwood  logs  up  a 
long,  crooked,  two 
per  cent,  grade. 
You  have  to  have 
an  extry  in  back  to 
push." 

"Nonsense!  I'D 
build  my  road  from 
Squaw  Creek  gulch 
south  through  that 
valley  where  those 
whopping  big  trees 
grow.  That's  the 
natural  outlet  for 
the  timber.  See 
here:" 


10. 


LEGEND 

Entrance  to  Humboldt  Bay. 

Humboldt  Bay.1 

Bill  Henderson's  sawmill. 

Tide  flats  and  shallow  water. 

Slough  where  Cardigan  stored  hia  logs  at  the  mill. 

Cardigan's  mill. 

Probable  route  which  transcontinental  railroad  build 
ing  in  from  the  south  would  take.  (Through  the 
San  Hedrin  watershed.) 

Log  boom  at  the  mouth  of  the  San  Hedrin  River 
where  Cardigan  collected  his  logs  when  operating  in 
the  San  Hedrin  watershed. 

The  San  Hedrin  River. 

Cardigan's  ten  thousand  acres  of  timber  in£the  San 
Hedrin  watershed. 

The  Valley  of  the  Giants.  The  dotted  area  to  the 
west  represents  Cardigan's  first  holdings  in  the 
redwood  country.  Now  logged  off  with  the  ex 


ception  of  the  Valley  of  the  Giants. 
72.    Bill  Henderson's  Souaw  Creek  timber. 


38  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Colonel  Pennington  took  from  his  pocket  the  rough 
sketch-map  of  the  region  which  we  have  reproduced 
herewith  and  pointed  to  the  spot  numbered  "  11." 

"But  that  valley  ain't  logged  yet,"  explained  Hender 
son. 

"  Don't  worry.  Cardigan  will  sell  that  valley  to  me — 
also  a  right  of  way  down  his  old  railroad  grade  and 
through  his  logged-over  lands  to  tidewater." 

"Bet  you  a  chaw  o'  tobacco  he  won't.  Those  big 
trees  in  that  valley  ain't  goin'  to  be  cut  for  no  railroad 
right  o'  way.  That  valley's  John  Cardigan's  private 
park;  his  wife's  buried  up  there.  Why,  Colonel,  that's 
the  biggest  grove  of  the  biggest  sequoia  sempervirens  in 
the  world,  an'  many's  the  time  I've  heard  John  say  he'd 
almost  as  lief  cut  off  his  right  hand  as  fell  one  o'  his  giants, 
as  he  calls  'em.  I  tell  you,  Colonel,  John  Cardigan's 
mighty  peculiar  about  them  big  trees.  Any  time  he 
can  get  a  day  off  he  goes  up  an'  looks"em  over." 

"But,  my  very  dear  sir,"  the  Colonel  protested,  "if 
the  man  will  not  listen  to  reason,  the  courts  will  make 
him.  I  can  condemn  a  right  of  way,  you  know." 

"We-11,"  said  old  Bill,  wagging  his  head  sagely, 
"mebbe  you  can,  an'  then  again  mebbe  you  can't.  It 
took  me  a  long  time  to  figger  out  just  where  I  stood,  but 
mebbe  you're  quicker  at  figgers  than  I  am.  Anyhow( 
Colonel,  good  luck  to  you,  whichever  way  the  cat  jumps.'1 

This  illuminating  conversation  had  one  effect  on 
Colonel  Seth  Pennington.  It  decided  him  to  make 
haste  slowly;  so  without  taking  the  trouble  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  John  Cardigan,  he  returned  to  Detroit, 
there  to  await  the  next  move  in  this  gigantic  game  </ 
chess. 


CHAPTER  V 

NO  MAN  is  infallible,  and  in  planning  his  logging 
operations  in  the  San  Hedrin  watershed,  John 
Cardigan  presently  made  the  discovery  that 
he  had  erred  in  judgment.  That  season,  from  May 
to  November,  his  woods-crew  put  thirty  million  feet 
of  logs  into  the  San  Hedrin  River,  while  the  mill  sawed 
on  a  reserve  supply  of  logs  taken  from  the  last  of  the 
old  choppings  adjacent  to  Squaw  Creek.  That  year, 
however,  the  rainfall  in  the  San  Hedrin  country  was 
fifty  per  cent,  less  than  normal,  and  by  the  first  of  May 
of  the  following  year  Cardigan's  woods-crew  had 
succeeded  in  driving  slightly  less  than  half  of  the 
cut  of  the  preceding  year  to  the  boom  on  tidewater 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river. 

"Unless  the  Lord rll  gi'us  a  lot  more  water  in  the  river," 
the  woods-boss  McTavish  complained,  "I  dinna  see 
how  I'm  to  keep  the  mill  runnin'."  He  was  taking  John 
Cardigan  up  the  riverbank  and  explaining  the  situation. 
"The  heavy  butt-logs  hae  sunk  to  the  bottom,"  he 
continued.  "Wie  a  normal  head  o'  water,  the  lads'll 
move  them,  but  wi'  the  wee  drappie  we  have  the 
noo "  He  threw  up  his  hamlike  hands  despairingly. 

Three  days  later  a  cloud-burst  filled  the  river  to  the 
brim;  it  came  at  night  and  swept  the  river  clean  of  Car 
digan's  clear  logs.  An  army  of  Juggernauts,  they 


40  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

swept  down  on  the  boiling  torrent  to  tidewater,  reaching 
the  bay  shortly  after  the  tide  had  commenced  to  ebb. 

Now,  a  chain  is  only  as  strong  as  its  weakest  link, 
and  a  log-boom  is  a  chaplet  of  a  small  logs,  linked  end 
to  end  by  means  of  short  chains;  hence  when  the  van 
guard  of  logs  on  the  lip  of  that  flood  reached  the  log- 
boom,  the  impetus  of  the  charge  was  too  great  to  be 
resisted.  Straight  through  the  weakest  link  in  this 
boom  the  huge  saw-logs  crashed  and  out  over  Hum- 
boldt  Bar  to  the  broad  Pacific.  With  the  ebb  tide 
some  of  them  came  back,  while  others,  caught  in  cross 
currents,  bobbed  about  the  Bay  all  night  and  finally 
beached  at  widely  scattered  points.  Out  of  the  fif 
teen  million  feet  of  logs  less  than  three  million  feet 
were  salvaged,  and  this  task  in  itself  was  an  expensive 
operation. 

John  Cardigan  received  the  news  calmly.  "Thank 
God  we  don't  have  a  cloud-burst  more  than  once  in  ten 
years,"  he  remarked  to  his  manager.  "However,  that 
is  often  enough,  considering  the  high  cost  of  this  one- 
Those  logs  were  worth  eight  dollars  a  thousand  feet, 
board  measure,  in  the  millpond,  and  I  suppose  we've 
lost  a  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth." 

He  turned  from  the  manager  and  walked  away 
through  the  drying  yard,  up  the  main  street  of  Sequoia, 
and  on  into  the  second-growth  timber  at  the  edge  of 
the  town.  Presently  he  emerged  on  the  old,  decaying 
skid-road  and  continued  on  through  his  logged-over 
lands,  across  the  little  divide  and  down  into  the  quarter- 
section  of  green  timber  he  had  told  McTavish  not  to 
cut.  Once  in  the  Valley  of  the  Giants,  he  followed  a 
well-worn  foot-path  to  the  little  amphitheatre,  and 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS          41 

where  the  sunlight  filtered  through  like  a  halo  and  fell 
on  a  plain  little  white  marble  monument,  he  paused 
and  sat  down  on  the  now  almost  decayed  sugar-pine 
windfall. 

"I've  come  for  a  little  comfort,  sweetheart,"  he 
murmured  to  her  who  slept  beneath  the  stone.  Then 
he  leaned  back  against  a  redwood  tree,  removed  his  hat, 
and  closed  his  eyes,  holding  his  great  gray  head  the 
while  a  little  to  one  side  in  a  listening  attitude.  Long 
he  sat  there,  a  great,  time-bitten  devotee  at  the  shrine 
of  his  comfort;  and  presently  the  harried  look  left 
his  strong,  kind  fpce  and  was  replaced  by  a  little  pres 
cient  smile — the  sort  of  smile  worn  by  one  who  through 
bitter  years  has  sought  something  very,  very  precious 
and  has  at  length  discovered  it. 


CHAPTER  VI 

rWAS  on  the  day  that  John  Cardigan  received  the 
;elegram  from  Bryce  saying  that,  following  fou* 
years  at  Princeton  and  two  years  of,  travel  abroad, 
he  was  returning  to  Sequoia  to  take  over  his  redwood 
heritage — that  he  discovered  that  a  stranger  and  not 
the  flesh  of  his  flesh  and  the  blood  of  his  blood  was  to 
reap  the  reward  of  his  fifty  years  of  endeavour.     Small 
wonder,  then,  that  he  laid  his  leonine  head  upon  his 
desk   and   wept,   silently,   as   the   aged   and   helpless 
weep. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  there  lethargic  with  misery. 
Eventually  he  roused  himself,  reached  for  the  desk 
telephone,  and  pressed  a  button  on  the  office  exchange- 
station.  His  manager,  one  Thomas  Sinclair,  answered. 
"Thomas,"  he  said  calmly,  "you  know,  of  course, 
that  Bryce  is  coming  home.  Tell  George  to  take  the 
big  car  and  go  over  to  Red  Bluff  for  him." 

"  I'll  attend  to  it,  Mr  Cardigan.     Anything  else?  " 
"Yes,  but  I'll  wait  until  Bryce  gets  home." 
George  Sea  Otter,  son  of  Bryce  Cardigan's  old  half- 
breed  nurse,  was  a  person  in  whose  nature  struggled 
the  white  man's  predilection  for  advertisement  and 
civic  pride  and  the  red  man's  instinct  for  adornment. 
For  three  years  he  had  been  old  man  Cardigan's  chauf 
feur  and  man-of -all- work   about  the  latter's  old-fash 
ioned  home,  and  in  the  former  capacity  he  drove  John 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  43 

Cardigan's  single  evidence  of  extravagance — a  Napier 
car,  which  was  very  justly  regarded  by  George  Sea 
Otter  as  the  king  of  automobiles,  since  it  was  the  only 
imported  car  in  the  county.  Upon  receipt  of  orders, 
therefore,  from  Sinclair,  to  drive  the  Napier  over  to 
Red  Bluff  and  meet  his  future  boss  and  one-time  play 
fellow,  George  Sea  Otter  arrayed  himself  in  a  pair  of 
new  black  corduroy  trousers,  yellow  button  shoes,  a 
blue  woollen  shirt  with  a  large  scarlet  silk  handkerchief 
tied  around  the  neck,  a  pair  of  beaded  buckskin  gloves 
with  fringe  dependent  from  the  gauntlet,  and  a  broad 
white  beaver  hat  with  a  rattlesnake-skin  band.  Across 
the  windshield  of  the  Napier  he  fastened  an  orange- 
coloured  pennant  bearing  in  bright  green  letters  the 
legend:  MY  CITY — SEQUOIA.  As  a  safety -first  pre 
caution  against  man  and  beast  en  route,  he  buckled 
a  gun-scabbard  to  the  spare  tires  on  the  running-board 
and  slipped  a  rifle  into  the  scabbard  within  quick  and 
easy  reach  of  his  hand;  and  arrayed  thus,  George  de 
scended  upon  Red  Bluff  at  the  helm  of  the  king  of 
automobiles. 

When  the  overland  train  coasted  into  Red  Bluff  and 
slid  to  a  grinding  halt,  Bryce  Cardigan  saw  that  the 
Highest  Living  Authority  had  descended  from  the 
train  also.  He  had  elected  to  designate  her  thus  in 
the  absence  of  any  information  anent  her  Christian 
and  family  names,  and  for  the  further  reason  that  quite 
obviously  she  was  a  very  superior  person.  He  had  a 
vague  suspicion  that  she  was  the  kind  of  girl  in  whose 
presence  a  man  always  feels  that  he  must  appear  on 
parade — one  of  those  alert,  highly  intelligent  young 
Women  so  extremely  apt  to  reduce  an  ordinarily  intel- 


44  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

ligent  young  man  to  a  state  of  gibbering  idiocy  or 
stupid  immobility. 

Bryce  had  travelled  in  the  same  car  with  the  Highest 
Living  Authority  from  Chicago  and  had  made  up  his 
mind  by  observation  that  with  a  little  encouragement 
she  could  be  induced  to  mount  a  soap-box  and  make 
a  speech  about  Women's  Rights;  that  when  her 
native  State  should  be  granted  equal  suffrage  she  would 
run  for  office  or  manage  somebody's  political  campaign; 
that  she  could  drive  an  automobile  and  had  probably 
been  arrested  for  speeding;  that  she  could  go  around 
any  golf  links  in  the  country  in  ninety  and  had  read 
Maeterlinck  and  enjoyed  it. 

Bryce  could  see  that  she  was  the  little  daughter  oi' 
some  large  rich  man.  The  sparsity  of  jewellery  and  the 
rich  simplicity  of  her  attire  proved  that,  and  moreover 
she  was  accompanied  by  a  French  maid  to  whom  she 
spoke  French  in  a  manner  which  testified  that  before 
acquiring  the  French  maid  she  had  been  in  the  custody 
of  a  French  nurse.  She  possessed  poise.  For  the  restv 
she  had  wonderful  jet-black  hair,  violet  eyes,  and  milk- 
white  skin,  a  correct  nose  but  a  somewhat  generous 
mouth.  Bryce  guessed  she  was  twenty  or  twenty -one 
years  old  and  that  she  had  a  temper  susceptible  of 
being  aroused.  On  the  whole,  she  was  rather  wonderful 
but  not  dazzling — at  least,  not  to  Bryce  Cardigan.  He 
told  himself  she  merely  interested  him  as  a  type — 
whatever  he  meant  by  that. 

The  fact  that  this  remarkable  young  woman  had 
also  left  the  train  at  Red  Bluff  further  interested  him, 
for  he  knew  Red  Bluff  and  while  giving  due  credit  to 
the  many  lovely  damsels  of  that  ambitious  little  city, 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GL4NTS  45 

Bryce  had  a  suspicion  that  no  former  Red  Bluff  girl 
would  dare  to  invade  the  old  home  town  with  a  French 
maid.  He  noted,  as  further  evidence  of  the  correctness 
of  his  assumption,  that  the  youthful  baggage-smasher 
at  the  station  failed  to  recognize  her  and  was  evidently 
dazzled  when,  followed  by  the  maid  struggling  with 
two  suit-cases,  she  approached  him  and  hi  pure  though 
alien  English  (the  Italian  A  predominated)  inquired 
the  name  and  location  of  the  best  hotel  and  the  hour 
and  point  of  departure  of  the  automobile  stage  for 
San  Hedrin.  The  youth  had  answered  her  first 
question  and  was  about  to  answer  the  second  when 
George  Sea  Otter,  in  all  his  barbaric  splendour,  came 
pussy-footing  around  the  corner  of  the  station  in  old 
man  Cardigan's  regal  touring-car. 

The  Highest  Living  Authority,  following  the  gaze 
of  the  baggage-smasher,  turned  and  beheld  George 
Sea  Otter.  Beyond  a  doubt  he  was  of  the  West  west 
ward.  She  had  heard  that  California  stage-drivers 
were  picturesque  fellows,  and  in  all  probability  the 
displacing  of  the  old  Concord  coach  of  the  movie-thriller 
in  favour  of  the  motor-stage  had  not  disturbed  the 
idiosyncrasies  of  the  drivers  in  their  choice  of  rai 
ment.  She  noted  the  rifle-stock  projecting  from  the 
scabbard,  and  a  vision  of  a  stage  hold-up  flashed  across 
her  mind.  Ah,  yes,  of  course — the  express  messenger's 
weapon,  no  doubt!  And  further  to  clinch  her  instant 
assumption  that  here  was  the  Sequoia  motor-stage, 
there  was  the  pennant  adorning  the  wind-shield ! 

Dismissing  the  baggage-smasher  with  a  gracious 
smile,  the  Highest  Living  Authority  approached  George 
Sea  Otter,  noting,  the  whileta  further  evidence  that  this 


46          THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

car  was  a  public  conveyance,  for  the  young  man  who 
had  been  her  fellow-passenger  was  heading  toward  the 
automobile  also.  She  heard  him  say : 

"Hello,  George,  you  radiant  red  rascal!  I'm  mighty 
glad  to  see  you,  boy.  Shake ! " 

They  shook,  George  Sea  Otter's  dark  eyes  and  white 
teeth  flashing  pleasurably.  Bryce  tossed  his  bag  into 
the  tonneau;  the  half-breed  opened  the  front  door;  and 
the  young  master  had  his  foot  on  the  running-board  and 
was  about  to  enter  the  car  when  a  soft  voice  spoke  at 
his  elbow : 

"Driver,  this  is  the  stage  for  Sequoia,  is  it  not?" 
George  Sea  Otter  could  scarcely  credit  his  auditory 
nerves.  "This  car?"  he  demanded  bluntly,  "this — 
the  Sequoia  stage!  Take  a  look,  lady.  This  here's  a 
Napier  imported  English  automobile.  It's  a  private 
car  and  belongs  to  my  boss  here." 

"I'm  so  sorry  I  slandered  your  car,"  she  replied  de 
murely.  "I  observed  the  pennant  on  the  wind-shield, 
and  I  thought— 

Bryce  Cardigan  turned  and  lifted  his  hat. 
"Quite  naturally,  you  thought  it  was  the  Sequoia 
stage,"  he  said  to  her.  He  turned  a  smoldering  glance 
upon  George  Sea  Otter.  "George,"  he  declared  omi 
nously,  but  with  a  sly  wink  that  drew  the  sting  from 
his  words,  "if  you're  anxious  to  hold  down  your  job  the 
next  time  a  lady  speaks  to  you  and  asks  you  a  simple 
question,  you  answer  yes  or  no  and  refrain  from  sar 
castic  remarks.  Don't  let  your  enthusiasm  for  this 
car  run  away  with  you."  He  faced  the  girl  again. 
"Was  it  your  intention  to  go  out  to  Sequoia  on  the  next 
trip  of  the  stage?" 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS          47 

She  nodded. 

"That  means  you  will  have  to  wait  here  three  days 
until  the  stage  returns  from  Sequoia,"  Bryce  replied. 

"I  realized,  of  course,  that  we  would  arrive  here  too 
late  to  connect  with  the  stage  if  it  maintained  the  cus 
tomary  schedule  for  its  departure,"  she  explained, 
"but  it  didn't  occur  to  me  that  the  stage-driver  wouldn't 
wait  until  our  train  arrived.  I  had  an  idea  his  schedule 
was  rather  elastic." 

"Stage-drivers  have  no  imagination,  to  speak  of," 
Bryce  assured  her.  To  himself  he  remarked:  "She's 
used  to  having  people  wait  on  her." 

A  shade  of  annoyance  passed  over  the  classic  features 
of  the  Highest  Living  Authority.  "  Oh,  dear,"  she  com 
plained,  "how  fearfully  awkward!  Now  I  shall  have 
to  take  the  next  train  to  San  Francisco  and  book  passage 
on  the  steamer  to  Sequoia — and  Marcelle  is  such  a  poor 
sailor.  Oh,  dear!" 

Bryce  had  an  inspiration  and  hastened  to  reveal  itc 

"We  are  about  to  start  for  Sequoia  now,  although 
the  lateness  of  our  start  will  compel  us  to  put  up  to 
night  at  the  rest-house  on  the  south  fork  of  Trinity 
River  and  continue  the  journey  in  the  morning.  How 
ever,  this  rest-house  is  eminently  respectable  and  the 
food  and  accommodations  are  extraordinarily  good  for 
mountains;  so,  if  an  invitation  to  occupy  the  tonneau 
of  my  car  will  not  be  construed  as  an  impertinencef 
coming  as  it  does  from  a  total  stranger,  you  are  at 
liberty  to  regard  this  car  as  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
the  public  conveyance  which  so  scandalously  declined 
K>  wait  for  you  this  morning." 

She  looked  at  him  scarchingly  for  a  brief  instant; 


48  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

then  with  a  peculiarly  winning  smile  and  a  graceful 
inclination  of  her  head  she  thanked  him  and  accepted 
his  hospitality — thus: 

"Why,  certainly  not!  You  are  very  kind,  and  I 
shall  be  eternally  grateful." 

"Thank  you  for  that  vote  of  confidence.  It  makes 
me  feel  that  I  have  your  permission  to  introduce  my 
self.  My  name  is  Bryce  Cardigan,  and  I  live  in  Sequoia 
when  I'm  at  home." 

"Of  Cardigan's  Redwoods?"  she  questioned.  He 
nodded.  "I've  heard  of  you,  I  think,"  she  continued. 
"I  am  Shirley  Sumner." 

"You  do  not  live  in  Sequoia.'* 

"No,  but  I'm  going  to  hereafter.  I  was  there  about 
ten  years  ago." 

He  grinned  and  thrust  out  a  great  hand  which  she 
surveyed  gravely  for  a  minute  before  inserting  hers  in 
it.  "I  wonder,"  he  said,  "if  it  is  to  be  my  duty  to  give 
you  a  ride  every  time  you  come  to  Sequoia?  The  last 
time  you  were  there  you  wheedled  me  into  giving  you  a 
ride  on  my  pony,  an  animal  known  as  Midget  Do 
you,  by  any  chance,  recall  that  incident?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  wonderingly.  "Why — why, 
you're  the  boy  with  the  beautiful  auburn  hair,"  she 
declared.  He  lifted  his  hat  and  revealed  his  thick 
thatch  in  all  its  glory.  "I'm  not  so  sensitive  about 
it  now,"  he  explained.  "WTien  we  first  met,  reference 
to  my  hair  was  apt  to  rile  me."  He  shook  her  little 
hand  with  cordial  good-nature.  "WTiat  a  pity  it 
wasn't  possible  for  us  to  renew  acquaintance  on  the 
train,  Miss  Sumner!" 

"Better  late  than  never,  Mr,  Cardigan,  considering 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  49 

the  predicament  in  which  you  found  me.     What  be 
came  of  Midget?" 

"Midget,  I  regret  to  state,  made  a  little  pig  of  herself 
one  day  and  died  of  acute  indigestion.  She  ate  half 
a  sack  of  carrots,  and  knowing  full  well  that  she  was 
eating  forbidden  fruit,  she  bolted  them,  and  for  her 
failure  to  Fletcherize — but  speaking  of  Fletcherizing, 
did  you  dine  aboard  the  train?" 

She  nodded;  "S3  &£  ^>  Miss  Sumner;  hence  I  take 
it  that  you  are  quite  ready  to  start." 

"Quite,  Mr.  Cardigan." 

"Then  we'll  drift.  George,  suppose  you  pile  Miss 
Summer's  hand-baggage  in  the  tonneau  and  then  pile  in 
there  yourself  and  ke^p  Marcelle  company.  I'll  drive; 
and  you  can  sit  up  in  front  with  me,  Miss  Sumner,  snug 
behind  the  wind-shield  where  you'll  not  be  blown  about." 

"I'm  sure  this  is  going  to  be  a  far  pleasanter  journey 
than  the  stage  could  possibly  have  afforded,"  sLe  said 
graciously  as  Bryce  slipped  in  beside  her  and  took  the 
wheel. 

'You  are  very  kind  to  share  the  pleasure  with  me, 
Miss  Sumner."  He  went  through  his  gears,  and  the 
car  glided  away  on  its  journey.  "By  the  way,"  he  said 
suddenly  as  he  turned  wes,  toward  the  distant  blue 
mountains  of  Trinity  County,  "how  did  you  happen 
to  connect  me  with  Cardigan's  redwoods?" 

"I've  heard  m.)  ^ole,  Colonel  Seth  Pennington, 
speak  of  them." 

"Colonel  Seth  Pennington  means  nothing  in  my 
young  life.  I  never  heard  of  him  before;  so  I  dare  say 
he's  a  newcomer  in  our  country.  I've  been  away  six 
years,"  he  added  in  explanation. 


50          THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"We're  from  Michigan.  Uncle  was  formerly  in  the 
lumber  business  there,  but  he's  logged  out  now." 

"I  see.  So  he  came  West,  I  suppose,  and  bought  a 
lot  of  redwood  timber  cheap  from  some  old  croaker 
who  never  could  see  any  future  to  the  redwood  lumber 
industry.  Personally,  I  don't  think  he  could  have 
made  a  better  investment.  I  hope  I  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  making  hi  3  acquaintance  when  I  deliver 
you  to  him.  Perhaps  y  ou  may  bejS  neighbour  of  mine. 
Hope  so." 

At  this  juncture  George  Sea  Otter,  who  had  been 
an  interested  listener  to  the  conversation,  essayed  a 
grunt  from  the  rear  seat.  Instantly,  to  Shirley  Sumner's 
vast  surprise,  her  host  grunted  also;  whereupon  George 
Sea  Otter  broke  into  a  series  of  grunts  and  guttural 
exclamations  which  evidently  appeared  quite  intelli 
gible  to  her  host,  for  he  slowed  down  to  five  miles  an 
hour  and  cocked  one  ear  to  the  rear;  apparently  he  was 
profoundly  interested  in  whatever  information  his 
henchman  had  to  impart.  When  George  Sea  Otter 
finished  his  harangue,  Bryce  nodded  and  once  more 
gave  his  attention  to  tossing  the  miles  behind  him. 

"What  language  was  that? "  Shirley  Sumner  inquired, 
consu  rned  with  curiosity. 

"Digger  Indian,"  he  replied.  "George's  mother 
was  my  nurse,  and  he  and  I  grew  up  together.  So  I 
can't  very  well  help  speaking  the  kjlguage  of  the  tribe." 

They  chattered  volubly  on  many  subjects  for  the 
first  twenty  miles;  then  the  road  narrowed  and  com 
menced  to  climb  steadily,  and  thereafter  Bryce  gave 
all  01  his  attention  to  the  car,  for  a  deviation  of  a  foot 
from  the  wheel-rut  on  the  outside  of  the  road  would 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  51 

have  sent  them  hurtling  over  the  grade  into  the  deep- 
timbered  canons  below.  Their  course  led  through  a 
rugged  wilderness,  widely  diversified  and  transcen- 
dently  beautiful,  and  the  girl  was  rather  glad 
of  the  opportunity  to  enjoy  it  in  silence.  Also  by 
reason  of  the  fact  that  Bryce's  gaze  never  wavered 
from  the  road  immediately  in  front  of  the  car,  she  had 
a  chance  to  appraise  him  critically  while  pretending  to 
look  past  him  to  the  tumbled,  snow-covered  ranges  to 
their  right. 

She  saw  a  big,  supple,  powerful  man  of  twenty-five 
or  six,  with  the  bearing  and  general  demeanour  of  one 
many  years  his  elder.  His  rich,  dark  auburn  hair  was 
wavy,  and  a  curling  lock  of  it  had  escaped  from  the 
band  of  his  cap  at  the  temple;  his  eyes  were  brown  to 
match  his  hair  and  were  the  striking  feature  of  a  strong, 
rugged  countenance,  for  they  were  spaced  at  that  emi 
nently  proper  interval  which  proclaims  an  honest  man. 
His  nose  was  high,  of  medium  thickness  and  just  a 
trifle  long — the  nose  of  a  thinker.  His  ears  were  large, 
with  full  lobes — the  ears  of  a  generous  man.  The 
mouth,  full-lipped  but  firm,  the  heavy  jaw  and  square 
chin,  the  great  hands  (most  amazingly  free  from 
freckles)  denoted  the  man  who  would  not  avoid  a 
fight  worth  while.  Indeed,  while  the  girl  was  looking 
covertly  at  him,  she  saw  his  jaw  set  and  a  sudden, 
fierce  light  leap  up  in  his  eyes,  which  at  first  sight  had 
seemed  to  her  rather  quizzical.  Subconsciously  he 
lifted  one  hand  from  the  wheel  and  clenched  it;  he 
wagged  his  head  a  very  little  bit;  consequently  she  knew 
his  thoughts  were  far  away,  and  for  some  reason,  not 
quite  clear  to  her,  she  would  have  preferred  that  they 


52  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

weren't.  As  a  usual  thing,  young  men  did  not  go 
wool-gathering  in  her  presence;  so  she  sought  to  divert 
his  thoughts  to  present  company. 

"What  a  perfectly  glorious  country!"  she  exclaimed, 
"  Can't  we  stop  for  just  a  minute  to  appreciate  it?  " 

"Yes,"  he  replied  abstractedly  as  he  descended  from 
the  car  and  sat  at  her  feet  while  she  drank  in  the  beauty 
of  the  scene,  "it's  a  he  country;  I  love  it,  and  I'm  glad 
to  get  back  to  it." 

Upon  their  arrival  at  the  rest-house,  however,  Bryce 
cheered  up,  and  during  dinner  was  very  atten 
tive  and  mildly  amusing,  although  Shirley's  keen  wits 
assured  her  that  this  was  merely  a  clever  pose  and  sus 
tained  with  difficulty.  She  was  confirmed  in  this 
assumption  when,  after  sitting  with  him  a  little  on  the 
porch  after  dinner,  she  complained  of  being  weary  and 
bade  him  good-night.  She  had  scarcely  left  him  when 
he  called : 

"George!" 

The  half-breed  slid  out  of  the  darkness  and  sat  down 
beside  him.  A  moment  later,  through  the  open  window 
of  her  room  just  above  the  porch  where  Bryce  and 
George  Sea  Otter  sat,  Shirley  heard  the  former  say: 

"George,  when  did  you  first  notice  that  my  father's 
sight  was  beginning  to  fail?" 

"About  two  years  ago,  Bryce." 

"What  made  you  notice  it?" 

"He  began  to  walk  with  his  hands  held  out  in  front 
of  him,  and  sometimes  he  lifted  his  feet  too  high." 

"Can  he  see  at  all  now,  George?" 

"Oh,  yes,  a  little  bit — enough  to  make  his  way  to 
the  office  and  back." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  53 

"Poor  old  governor!  George,  until  you  told  me 
this  afternoon,  I  hadn't  heard  a  word  about  it.  If  I 
had,  I  never  would  have  taken  that  two-year  jaunt 
around  the  world." 

George  Sea  Otter  grunted.  "That's  what  your 
father  said,  too.  So  he  wouldn't  tell  you,  and  he  or 
dered  everybody  else  to  keep  quiet  about  it.  Myself— 
well,  I  didn't  want  you  to  go  home  and  not  know  it 
until  you  met  him." 

"That  was  mighty  kind  and  considerate  of  you, 
George.  And  you  say  this  man  Colonel  Pennington 
and  my  father  have  been  having  trouble?  " 

"Yes "  Here  George  Sea  Otter  gracefully 

unburdened  himself  of  a  fervent  curse  directed  at 
Shirley's  avuncular  relative;  whereupon  that  young 
lady  promptly  left  the  window  and  heard  no 
more. 

They  were  on  the  road  again  by  eight  o'clock  next 
morning,  and  just  as  Cardigan's  mill  was  blowing  the 
six  o'clock  whistle,  Bryce  stopped  the  car  at  the  head 
of  the  street  leading  down  to  the  water-front.  "I'll 
let  you  drive  now,  George,"  he  informed  the  silent  Sea 
Otter.  He  turned  to  Shirley  Sumner.  "I'm  going 
to  leave  you  now,"  he  said.  "Thank  you  for  riding 
over  from  Red  Bluff  with  me.  My  father  never  leaves 
the  office  until  the  whistle  blows,  and  so  I'm  going  to 
hurry  down  to  that  little  building  you  see  at  the  end 
of  the  street  and  surprise  him." 

He  stepped  out  on  the  running-board,  stood  there  a 
moment,  and  extended  his  hand.  Shirley  had  com 
menced  a  due  and  formal  expression  of  her  gratitude 


54  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

for  having  been  delivered  safely  in  Sequoia,  when 
George  Sea  Otter  spoke : 

"Here  comes  John  Cardigan,"  he  said. 

"Drive  Miss  Sumner  around  to  Colonel  Pennington's 
house,"  Bryce  ordered,  and  even  while  he  held  Shirley's 
hand,  he  turned  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  his  father. 
Shirley  followed  his  glance  and  saw  a  tall,  powerfully 
built  old  man  coming  down  the  street  with  his  hands 
thrust  a  little  in  front  of  him,  as  if  for  protection  from 
some  invisible  assailant. 

"Oh,  my  poor  old  father!"  she  heard  Bryce  Cardigan 
murmur.  "My  dear  old  pal!  And  I've  let  him  grope 
in  the  dark  for  two  years! " 

He  released  her  hand  and  leaped  from  the  car. 
"Dad!"  he  called.  "It  is  I— Bryce.  I've  come 
home  to  you  at  last." 

The  slightly  bent  figure  of  John  Cardigan  straightened 
with  a  jerk;  he  held  out  his  arms,  trembling  with  eager 
ness,  and  as  the  car  continued  on  to  the  Pennington 
house  Shirley  looked  back  and  saw  Bryce  folded  in 
his  father's  embrace.  She  did  not,  however,  hear  the 
heart-cry  with  which  the  beaten  old  man  welcomed  his 
boy. 

"Sonny,  sonny — oh,  I'm  so  glad  you're  back.  I've 
missed  you.  Bryce,  I'm  whipped — I've  lost  your 
heritage.  Oh,  son !  I'm  old — I  can't  fight  any  more. 
I'm  blind — I  can't  see  my  enemies.  I've  lost  your 
redwood  trees — even  your  mother's  Valley  of  the 
Giants." 

And  he  commenced  to  weep  for  the  third  time  in 
fifty  years.  And  when  the  aged  and  helpless  weep, 
nothing  is  more  terrible.  Bryce  Cardigan  said  no 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  55 

word,  but  held  his  father  close  to  his  great  heart  and 
laid  his  cheek  gently  against  the  old  man's,  tenderly  as 
a  woman  might.  And  presently,  from  that  silent 
communion  of  spirit,  each  drew  strength  and  comfort. 
As  the  shadows  fell  in  John  Cardigan's  town,  they 
went  home  to  the  house  on  the  hill. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SHIRLEY  SUMMER'S  eyes  were  still  moist  when 
George  Sea  Otter,  in  obedience  to  the  instruc 
tions  of  his  youthful  master,  set  her,  the  French 
maid,  and  their  hand-baggage  down  on  the  sidewalk  in 
front  of  Colonel  Seth  Pennington's  house.  The  half- 
breed  hesitated  a  moment,  undecided  whether  he  would 
carry  the  hand-baggage  up  to  the  door  or  leave  that 
task  for  a  Pennington  retainer;  then  he  noted  the  tear- 
stains  on  the  cheeks  of  his  fair  passenger.  Instantly 
he  took  up  the  hand-baggage,  kickec  oen  the  iron  gate, 
and  preceded  Shirley  up  the  cement  walk  to  the  door. 

"Just  wait  a  moment,  if  you  please,  George,'* 
Shirley  said  as  he  set  the  baggage  down  and  started 
back  for  the  car.  He  turned  and  beheld  her  extracting 
a  five-dollar  bill  from  her  purse.  "For  you,  George," 
she  continued.  "  Thank  you  so  much." 

In  all  his  life  George  Sea  Otter  had  never  had  such 
an  experience — he,  happily,  having  been  raised  in  a 
country  where,  with  the  exception  of  waiters,  only  a 
pronounced  vagrant  expects  or  accepts  a  gratuity 
from  a  woman.  He  took  the  bill  and  fingered  it  cur 
iously;  then  his  white  blood  asserted  itself  and  he 
handed  the  bill  back  to  Shirley. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said  respectfully.  "If  you  are  a 
man — all  right.  But  from  a  lady — no.  I  am  like  my 
boss.  I  work  for  you  for  nothing." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  57 

Shirley  did  not  understand  his  trefusal,  but  her  in 
stinctive  tact  warned  her  not  to  insist.  She  returned 
the  bill  to  her  purse,  thanked  him  again,  and  turned 
quickly  to  hide  the  slight  flush  of  annoyance.  George 
Sea  Otter  noted  it. 

"Lady,"  he  said  with  great  dignity,  "at  first  I  did 
not  want  to  carry  your  baggage.  I  did  not  want 
to  walk  on  this  land."  And  with  a  sweeping  ges 
ture  he  indicated  the  Pennington  grounds.  "Then 
you  cry  a  little  because  my  boss  is  feeling  bad  about 
his  old  man.  So  I  like  you  better.  The  old  man — well, 
he  has  been  like  father  to  me  and  my  mother — and  we 
are  Indians.  My  brothers,  too — they  work  for  him. 
So  if  you  like  my  boss  and  his  old  man,  George  Sea 
Otter  would  go  to  hell  for  you  pretty  damn*  quick. 
You  bet  you  my  life!" 

"You're  a  very  good  boy,  George,"  she  replied,  with 
difficulty  repressing  a  smile  at  his  blunt  but  earnest 
avowal.  "I  am  glad  the  Cardigans  have  such  an 
honest,  loyal  servant." 

George  Sea  Otter's  dark  face  lighted  with  a  quick 
smile.  "Now  you  pay  me,"  he  replied  and  returned 
to  the  car. 

The  door  opened,  and  a  Swedish  maid  stood  in  the 
entrance  regarding  her  stolidly.  "I'm  Miss  Sumner," 
Shirley  informed  her.  "This  is  my  maid  Marcelle. 
Help  her  in  with  the  hand-baggage."  She  stepped  into 
the  hall  and  called :  "  Ooh-hooh !  Nunky-dunk ! " 

"Ship  ahoy!"  An  answering  call  came  to  her  from 
the  dining  room,  across  the  entrance-hall,  and  an  in 
stant  later  Colonel  Seth  Pennington  stood  in  the  door 
way.  "Bless  my  whiskers !  Is  that  you,  my  dear?  "  he 


58  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

cried,  and  advanced  to  greet  her.  "Why,  how  did  you 
get  here,  Shirley?  I  thought  you'd  missed  the  stage." 

She  presented  her  cheek  for  his  kiss.  "So  I  did, 
Uncle,  but  a  nice  red-haired  young  man  named  Bryce 
Cardigan  found  me  in  distress  at  Red  Bluff,  picked 
me  up  in  his  car,  and  brought  me  here."  She  sniffed 
adorably.  "I'm  so  hungry,"  she  declared,  "and  here 
I  am,  just  in  time  for  dinner.  Is  my  name  in  the 
pot?" 

"It  isn't,  Shirley,  but  it  soon  will  be.  How  perfectly 
bully  to  have  you  with  me  again,  my  dear!  And  what 
a  charming  young  lady  you've  grown  to  be  since  I  saw 
you  last!  You're — why,  you've  been  crying!  By 
Jove,  I  had  no  idea  you'd  be  so  glad  to  see  me  again." 

She  could  not  forego  a  sly  little  smile  at  his  egoism. 
"  You're  looking  perfectly  splendid,  Uncle  Seth,"  she 
parried. 

"And  I'm  feeling  perfectly  splendid.  This  is  a 
wonderful  country,  Shirley,  and  everything  is  going 
nicely  with  me  here.  By  the  way,  who  did  you  say 
picked  you  up  in  his  car?  " 

"Bryce  Cardigan.     Do  you  know  him? " 

"No,  we  haven't  met.  Son  of  old  Jchn  Cardigan,  I 
dare  say.  I've  heard  of  him.  He's  been  away  from 
Sequoia  for  quite  a  while,  I  believe." 

"Yes;  he  was  abroad  for  two  years  after  he  was 
graduated  from  Princeton." 

"Hum-m-m!  Well,  it's  about  time  he  came  home 
to  take  care  of  that  stiff-necked  old  father  of  his."  He 
stepped  to  the  bell  and  pressed  it,  and  the  butler  an 
swered.  "Set  a  place  at  dinner  for  Miss  Shirley, 
James,"  he  ordered.  "Thelma  will  show  you  your 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  59 

rooms,  Shirley.  I  was  just  about  to  sit  down  to  dinner. 
I'll  wait  for  you." 

While  Shirley  was  in  the  living  room  Colonel  Pen- 
nington's  features  wore  an  expression  almost  pontifical, 
but  wLen  she  had  gone,  the  atmosphere  of  paternalism 
and  affection  which  he  radiated  faded  instantly.  The 
Colonel's  face  was  in  repose  now — cold,  calculating,  vag 
uely  repellent.  He  scowled  slightly. 

"Now,  isn't  that  the  devil's  luck?"  he  soliloquized. 
"  Young  Cardigan  is  probably  the  only  man  in  Sequoia 
—dashed  awkward  if  they  should  become  interested  in 
each  other — at  this  time.  Everybody  in  town,  from 
lumberjacks  to  bankers,  has  told  me  what  a  fine  fel 
low  Bryce  Cardigan  is.  They  say  he's  good-looking; 
certainly  he  is  educated  and  has  acquired  some  worldly 
polish — just  the  kind  of  young  fellow  Shirley  will  find 
interesting  and  welcome  company  in  a  town  like  this. 
Many  things  can  happen  in  a  year — and  it  will  be  a 
year  before  I  can  smash  th«  Cardigans.  Damn  it!" 


CHAPTER 

AONG,  the  well-remembered  streets  of  Sequoia 
Bryce  Cardigan  and  his  father  walked  arm  in 
arm,  their  progress  continuously  interrupted  by 
well-meaning  but  impulsive  Sequoians  who  insisted 
upon  halting  the  pair  to  shake  hands  with  Bryce  and 
bid  him  welcome  home.  In  the  presence  of  those  third 
parties  the  old  man  quickly  conquered  the  agitation  he 
had  felt  at  this  long-deferred  meeting  with  his  son,  and 
when  presently  they  left  the  business  section  of  the 
town  and  turned  into  a  less-frequented  street,  his  emo 
tion  assumed  the  character  of  a  quiet  joy,  evidenced  in  a 
more  erect  bearing  and  a  firmer  tread,  as  if  he  strove, 
despite  his  seventy-six  years,  not  to  appear  incongruous 
as  he  walked  beside  his  splendid  son. 

"I  wish  I  could  see  you  more  clearly,"  he  said  pres 
ently.  His  voice  as  well  as  his  words  expressed  pro 
found  regret,  but  there  was  no  hint  of  despair  or  heart 
break  now. 

Bryce,  who  up  to  this  moment  had  refrained  from 
discussing  his  father's  misfortunes,  drew  the  old  man  a 
little  closer  to  his  side. 

"What's  wrong  with  your  eyes,  pal?"  he  queried. 
He  did  not  often  address  his  parent,  after  the  fashion 
of  most  sons,  as  "Father,"  "Dad"  or  "Pop."  They 
were  closer  to  each  other  than  that,  and  a  rare  sense 
of  perfect  comradeship  found  expression,  on  Bryce's 

60 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  61 

part,  in  such  salutations  as  "pal,"  "partner"  and, 
infrequently,  "old  sport."  When  arguing  with  his 
father,  protesting  with  him  or  affectionately  scolding 
him,  Bryce,  with  mock  seriousness,  sometimes  called 
the  old  man  John  Cardigan. 

"  Cataracts,  son,"  his  father  answered.  "  Merely  the 
penalty  of  old  age." 

"But  can't  something  be  done  about  it?"  demanded 
Bryce.  "  Can't  they  be  cured  somehow  or  other?  " 

"  Certainly  they  can.  But  I  shall  have  to  wait  until 
they  are  completely  matured  and  I  have  become  com 
pletely  blind;  then  a  specialist  will  perform  an  operation 
on  my  eyes,  and  in  all  probability  my  sight  will  be 
restored  for  a  few  years.  However,  I  haven't  given  the 
matter  a  great  deal  of  consideration.  At  my  age  one 
doesn't  find  very  much  difficulty  in  making  the  best  of 
everything.  And  I  am  about  ready  to  quit  now.  I'd 
like  to,  in  fact;  I'm  tired." 

"Oh,  but  you  can't  quit  until  you've  seen  your  red 
woods  again,"  Bryce  reminded  him.  "I  suppose  it's 
been  a  long  time  since  you've  visited  the  Valley  of  the 
Giants;  your  long  exile  from  the  wood-goblins  has  made 
you  a  trifle  gloomy,  I'm  afraid." 

John  Cardigan  nodded.  "I  haven't  seen  them  in  a 
year  and  a  half,  Bryce.  Last  time  I  was  up,  I  slipped 
between  the  logs  on  the  old  skid-road  and  like  to  broke 
my  old  fool  neck.  But  even  that  wasn't  warning 
enough  for  me.  I  cracked  right  on  into  the  timber 
and  got  lost." 

"Lost?  Poor  old  partner!  And  what  did  you  do 
about  it?" 

"  The  sensible  thing,  my  boy.    I  just  sat  down  under 


62  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

a  tree  and  waited  for  George  Sea  Otter  to  trail  me  and 
bring  me  home." 

"  And  did  he  find  you?  Or  did  you  have  to  spend  the 
night  in  the  woods?  " 

John  Cardigan  smiled  humorously.  "I  did  not. 
Along  about  sunset  George  found  me.  Seems  he'd 
been  following  me  all  the  time,  and  when  I  sat  down 
lie  waited  to  make  certain  whether  I  was  lost  or  just 
taking  a  rest  where  I  could  be  quiet  and  think." 

"I've  been  leaving  to  an  Indian  the  fulfillment  of  my 
duty,"  Bryce  murmured  bitterly. 

"No,  no,  son.  You  have  never  been  deficient  in 
that,"  the  old  man  protested. 

"Why  didn't  you  have  the  old  skid-road  planked 
with  refuse  lumber  so  you  wouldn't  fall  through?  And 
you  might  have  had  the  woods-boss  swamp  a  new  trail 
into  the  timber  and  fence  it  on  both  sides,  in  order  that 
you  might  feel  your  way  along." 

"Yes,  quite  true,"  admitted  the  old  man.  "But 
then,  I  don't  spend  money  quite  as  freely  as  I  used  to, 
Bryce.  I  consider  carefully  now  before  I  part  with  a 
dollar." 

"Pal,  it  wasn't  fair  of  you  to  make  me  stay  away  so 
long.  If  I  had  only  known — if  I  had  remotely  sus 
pected— 

"You'd  have  spoiled  everything — of  course.  Don't 
scold  me,  son.  You're  all  I  have  now,  and  I  couldn't 
bear  to  send  for  you  until  you'd  had  your  fling."  His 
trembling  old  hand  crept  over  and  closed  upon  his 
boy's  hand,  so  firm  but  free  from  signs  of  toil.  "It  was 
my  pleasure,  Bryce,"  he  continued,  "  and  you  wouldn't 
deny  me  my  choice  of  sport,  would  you?  Remember, 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  63 

lad,  I  never  had  a  boyhood;  I  never  had  a  college 
education,  and  the  only  real  travel  I  have  ever  had  was 
when  I  worked  my  way  around  Cape  Horn  as  a  foremast 
hand,  and  all  I  saw  then  was  water  and  hardships;  all 
I've  seen  since  is  my  little  world  here  in  Sequoia  and  in 
San  Francisco." 

"You've  sacrificed  enough — too  much — for  me,  Dad." 

"It  pleased  me  to  give  you  all  the  advantages  I 
wanted  and  couldn't  afford  until  I  was  too  old  and  too 
busy  to  consider  them.  Besides,  it  was  your  mother's 
wish.  We  made  plans  for  you  before  you  were  born, 
and  I  promised  her — ah,  well,  why  be  a  cry-baby?  I 
knew  I  could  manage  until  you  were  ready  to  settle 
down  to  business.  And  you  have  enjoyed  your  little 
run,  haven't  you?"  he  concluded  wistfully. 

"I  have,  Dad."  Bryce's  great  hand  closed  over  the 
back  of  his  father's  neck;  he  shook  the  old  man  with1 
mock  ferocity .  ' '  Stubborn  old  lumber j  ack ! "  he  chided . 

John  Cardigan  shook  with  an  inward  chuckle,  for  the 
loving  abuse  his  boy  had  formed  a  habit  of  heaping  on 
him  never  failed  to  thrill  him.  Instinctively  Biyce  had 
realized  that  to-night-  obvious  sympathy  copiously  ex 
pressed  was  not  the  medicine  for  his  father's  bruised 
spirit;  hence  he  elected  to  regard  the  latter's  blindness 
as  a  mere  temporary  annoyance,  something  to  be  con 
sidered  lightly,  if  at  all;  and  it  was  typical  of  him  now 
that  the  subject  had  been  discussed  briefly,  to  resolve 
never  to  refer  to  it  again.  He  released  his  hold  on  the 
old  man's  neck  and  tapped  the  latter's  gray  head  lightly, 
while  with  his  tongue  he  made  hollow-sounding  nol^s 
against  the  roof  of  his  mouth. 

"Ha!    I  thought  so,"  he  declared,     "After  your 


64  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

fifty-odd  years  in  the  lumber  business  your  head  has 
become  packed  with  sawdust 

"Be  serious  and  talk  to  me,  Bryce." 

"I  ought  to  send  you  to  bed  without  your  supper. 
Talk  to  you?  You  bet  I'll  talk  to  you,  John  Cardigan; 
and  I'll  tell  you  things,  too,  you  scandalous  bunko- 
steerer.  To-morrow  morning  I'm  going  to  put  a  pair 
of  overalls  on  you,  arm  you  with  a  tin  can  and  a  swab, 
and  set  you  to  greasing  the  skidways.  Partner,  you've 
deceived  me." 

"Oh,  nonsense.  If  I  had  whimpered,  that  would 
only  have  spoiled  everything." 

"Nevertheless,  you  were  forced  to  cable  me  to  hurry 
home." 

"I  summoned  you  the  instant  I  realized  I  was  going 
to  need  you." 

"No,  you  didn't,  John  Cardigan.  You  summoned 
me  because,  for  the  first  time  in  your  life,  you  were 
panicky  and  let  yourself  get  out  of  hand." 

His  father  nodded  slowly.  "And  you  aren't  over 
it  yet,"  Bryce  continued,  his  voice  no  longer  bantering 
but  lowered  affectionately.  "What's  the  trouble,  Dad? 
Trot  out  your  old  panic  and  let  me  inspect  it.  Trouble 
must  be  very  real  when  it  gets  my  father  on  the  run." 

"  It  is,  Bryce,  very  real  indeed.  As  I  remarked  before, 
I've  lost  your  heritage  for  you."  He  sighed.  "I 
waited  till  you  would  be  able  to  come  home  and  settle 
down  to  business;  now  you're  home,  and  there  isn't 
any  business  to  settle  down  to." 

Bryce  chuckled,  for  he  was  indeed  far  from  being 
worried  over  business  matters,  his  consideration  now 
being  entirely  for  his  father's  peace  of  mind.  "AU 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS          65 

right,"  lie  retorted,  "Father  has  lost  his  money  and 
we'll  have  to  let  the  servants  go  and  give  up  the  old 
home.  That  part  of  it  is  settled;  and  weak,  anemic, 
tenderly  nurtured  little  Bryce  Cardigan  must  put  his 
turkey  on  his  back  and  go  into  the  woods  looking  for  a 
job  as  lumberjack.  .  .  .  Busted,  eh?  Did  I 
or  did  I  not  hear  the  six  o'clock  whistle  blow  at  the  mill? 
Bet  you  a  dollar  I  did." 

"Oh,  I  have  title  to  everything — yet." 

"How  I  do  have  to  dig  for  good  news!  Then  it 
appears  we  still  have  a  business;  indeed,  we  may  always 
have  a  business,  for  the  very  fact  that  it  is  going  but 
not  quite  gone  implies  a  doubt  as  to  its  ultimate  de 
parture,  and  perhaps  we  may  yet  scheme  a  way  to  re 
tain  it." 

"Oh,  my  boy,  when  I  think  of  my  years  of  toil  and 
scheming,  of  the  big  dreams  I  dreamed 

"Belay  all!  If  we  can  save  enough  out  of  the  wreck 
to  insure  you  your  customary  home  comforts,  I  shan't 
cry,  partner.  I  have  a  profession  to  fall  back  on.  Yes, 
sirree.  I  own  a  sheep-skin,  and  it  says  I'm  an  electrical 
and  civil  engineer." 

"What!" 

"I  said  it.  An  electrical  and  civil  engineer.  Slipped 
one  over  on  you  at  college,  John  Cardigan,  when  all  the 
time  you  thought  I  was  having  a  good  time.  Thought 
I'd  come  home  and  surprise  you." 

"Bu-bu-but- 

"It  drives  me  wild  to  have  a  man  sputter  at  me. 
I'm  an  electrical  and  civil  engineer,  I  tell  you,  and  my 
two  years  of  travel  have  been  spent  study  ing  the  in 
stallation  and  construction  of  big  plants  abroad." 


66  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

He  commenced  to  chuckle  softly.  "I've  known 
for  years  that  our  sawmill  was  a  debilitated  old  coffee- 
grinder  and  would  have  to  be  rebuilt,  so  I  wanted  to 
know  how  to  rebuild  it.  And  I've  known  for  years 
that  some  day  I  might  have  to  build  a  logging  rail 
road " 

" My  dear  boy !    And  you've  got  your  degree? "          $ 

"Partner,  I  have  a  string  of  letters  after  my  name 
like  the  tail  of  a  comet." 

"You  comfort  me,"  the  old  man  answered  simply. 
"I  have  reproached  myself  with  the  thought  that  I 
reared  you  with  the  sole  thought  of  making  a  lumber 
man  out  of  you — and  when  I  saw  your  lumber  business 
slipping  through  my  fingers ' 

"You  were  sorry  I  didn't  have  a  profession  to  fall 
back  on,  eh?  Or  were  you  fearful  lest  you  had  raised 
the  usual  rich  man's  son?  If  the  latter,  you  did  not 
compliment  me,  pal.  I've  never  forgotten  how  hard 
you  always  strove  to  impress  me  with  a  sense  of  the 
exact  weight  of  my  responsibility  as  your  successor." 

"How  big  are  you  now?  "  his  father  queried  suddenly. 

"Well,  sir,"  Bryce  answered,  for  his  father's  pleasure 
putting  aside  his  normal  modesty,  "I'm  six  feet  two 
inches  tall,  and  I  weigh  two  hundred  pounds  in  the 
pink  of  condition.  I  have  a  forty-eight-inch  chest, 
with  five  and  a  half  inches  chest-expansion,  and  a  reach 
as  long  as  a  gorilla's.  My  underpinning  is  good,  too; 
I'm  not  one  of  these  fellows  with  spidery  legs  and  a 
barrel-chest.  I  can  do  a  hundred  yards  in  ten  seconds; 
I'm  no  slouch  of  a  swimmer;  and  at  Princeton  they  say 
I  made  football  history.  And  in  spite  of  it  all,  I  haven't 
an  athletic  heart." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS       .   6? 

"That  is  very  encouraging,  my  boy — very.  Ever  do 
any  boxing?" 

"Quite  a  little.  I'm  fairly  up  in  the  manly  art  of 
self-defence." 

"That's  good.  And  I  suppose  you  did  some  wrest 
ling  at  your  college  gymnasium,  did  you  not?  " 

"Naturally.  I  went  in  for  everything  my  big  carcass 
could  stand." 

The  old  man  wagged  his  head  approvingly,  and  they 
had  reached  the  gate  of  the  Cardigan  home  before  he 
spoke  again.  "There's  a  big  buck  woods-boss  up  in 
Pennington's  camp,"  he  remarked  irrelevantly.  "He's 
a  French  Canadian  imported  from  northern  Michigan 
by  Colonel  Pennington.  I  dare  say  he's  the  only  man 
in  this  country  who  measures  up  to  you  physically.  He 
can  fight  with  his  fists  and  WTestle  right  cleverly,  I'm 
told.  His  name  is  Jules  Rondeau,  and  he's  top  dog 
among  the  lumberjacks.  They  say  he's  the  strongest 
man  in  the  county."  He  unlatched  the  gate.  "Folks 
used  to  say  that  about  me  once,"  he  continued  wistfully. 
"Ah,  if  I  could  have  my  eyes  to  see  you  meet  Jules  Ron 
deau!" 

The  front  portal  of  the  quaint  old  Cardigan  residence 
opened,  and  a  silver-haired  lady  came  out  on  the  porch 
and  hailed  Brycc.  She  was  Mrs.  Tully,  John  Cardigan's 
old  housekeeper,  and  almost  a  mother  to  Bryce.  "Oh, 
here's  my  boy!"  she  cried,  and  a  moment  later  found 
herself  encircled  by  Bryce's  arms  and  saluted  with  a 
hearty  kiss. 

As  he  stepped  into  the  familiar  entrance-hall,,  Bryce 

paused,  raised  his  head  and  sniffed  suspiciously,  like  a 

^bird-dog.     Mrs.    Tully,  arms   akimbo,    watched   him 


68  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

pleasurably.  "I  smell  something,"  he  declared,  and 
advanced  a  step  down  the  hall  for  another  sniff;  then,  in 
exact  imitation  of  a  foxhound,  he  gave  tongue  and  start 
ed  for  the  kitchen.  Mrs.  Tully,  waddling  after,  found 
him  "pointing"  two  hot  blackberry  pies  which  had  but 
a  few  minutes  previous  been  taken  from  the  oven.  He 
was  baying  lugubriously. 

"They're  wild  blackberries,  too,"  Mrs.  Tully  an 
nounced  pridefully.  "I  remembered  how  fond  you 
used  to  be  of  wild-blackberry  pie — so  I  phoned  up  to 
the  logging-camp  and  had  the  woods-boss  send  a  man 
out  to  pick  them." 

"I'm  still  a  pie-hound,  Mrs.  Tully,  and  you're  still 
the  same  dear,  thoughtful  soul.  I'm  so  glad  now  that 
I  had  sense  enough  to  think  of  you  before  I  turned  my 
footsteps  toward  the  setting  sun."  He  patted  her  gray 
head.  "Mrs.  T.,"  he  declared,  "I've  brought  you  a 
nice  big  collar  of  Irish  lace — bought  it  in  Belfast,  b'gosh. 
It  comes  down  around  your  neck  and  buckles  right  here 
with  an  old  ivory  cameo  I  picked  up  in  Burma  and 
which  formerly  was  the  property  of  a  Hindu  queen." 

Mrs.  Tully  simpered  with  pleasure  and  protested 
that  her  boy  was  too  kind.  "You  haven't  changed  a 
single  speck,"  she  concluded  proudly. 

"Has  the  pie?" 

"I  should  say  not." 

"How  many  did  you  make?" 

"Two." 

"May  I  have  one  all  for  myself,  Mrs.  Tully?" 

"Indeed  you  may.  my  dear." 

"Thank  you,  but  I  do  not  want  it  for  myself.  Mrs. 
Tully,  will  you  please  wrap  one  of  those  wonderful  pies 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS          69 

HI  a  napkin  and  the  instant  George  Sea  Otter  comes  in 
with  the  car,  tell  him  to  take  the  pie  over  to  Colonel 
Pennington's  house  and  deliver  it  to  Miss  Sumner? 
There's  a  girl  who  doubtless  thinks  she  has  tasted  pie 
in  her  day,  and  I  want  to  prove  to  her  that  she  hasn't." 
He  selected  a  card  from  his  card-case,  sat  down,  and 
wrote : 

DEAR  Miss  SUMNER: 

Here  is  a  priceless  hot  wild-blackberry  pie,  especially  manu 
factured  in  ny  honour.  It  is  so  good  I  wanted  you  to  have  some, 
In  all  your  life  you  have  never  tasted  anything  like  it. 

Sincerely, 

BRYCE  CARDIGAN. 

He  handed  the  card  to  Mrs.  Tully  and  repaired  to 
his  old  room  to  remove  the  stains  of  travel  before  join 
ing  his  father  at  dinner. 

Some  twenty  minutes  later  his  unusual  votive  offering 
was  delivered  by  George  Sea  Otter  to  Colonel  Penning- 
ton's  Swedish  maid,  who  promptly  brought  it  in  to  the 
Colonel  and  Shirley  Sumner,  who  were  even  then  at 
dinner  in  the  Colonel's  fine  burl-redwood-panelled 
dining  room.  Miss  Sumner 's  amazement  was  so  pro 
found  that  for  fully  a  minute  she  was  mute,  contenting 
herself  with  scrutinizing  alternately  the  pie  and  the 
card  that  accompanied  it.  Presently  she  handed  the 
card  to  her  uncle,  who  affixed  his  pince-nez  and  read  the 
epistle  with  deliberation. 

"Isn't  this  young  Cardigan  a  truly  remarkable 
young  man,  Shirley?"  he  declared.  "Why,  I  have 
never  heard  of  anything  like  his  astounding  action. 
If  he  had  sent  you  over  an  armful  of  American  Beauty 


70          THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

roses  from  his  father's  old-fashioned  garden,  I  could 
understand  it,  but  an  infernal  blackberry  pie!  Good 
heavens ! " 

"I  told  you  he  was  different,"  she  replied.  To  the 
Colonel's  amazement  she  did  not  appear  at  all  amused. 

Colonel  Pennington  poked  a  fork  through  the  deli 
cate  brown  crust.  "I  wonder  if  it  is  really  as  good  as 
he  says  it  is,  Shirley." 

"Of  course.     If  it  wasn't,  he  wouldn't  have  sent  it." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"By  intuition,"  she  replied.  And  she  cut  into  the 
pie  and  helped  the  Colonel  to  a  quadrant  of  it. 

"That  was  a  genuine  hayseed  faux-pas"  announced 
the  Colonel  a  few  moments  later  as  Shirley  was  pouring 
coffee  from  a  samovar-shaped  percolator  in  the  library. 
"The  idea  of  anybody  who  has  enjoyed  the  advantages 
that  fellow  has,  sending  a  hot  blackberry  pie  to  a  girl 
he  has  just  met!" 

"Yes,  the  idea!"  she  echoed.  "I  find  it  rather 
charming." 

"You  mean  amusing." 

"I  said  'charming.'  Bryce  Cardigan  is  a  man  with 
the  heart  and  soul  of  a  boy,  and  I  think  it  was  mighty 
sweet  of  him  to  share  his  pie  with  me.  If  he  had  sent 
roses,  I  should  have  suspected  him  of  trying  to  'rush' 
me,  but  the  fact  that  he  sent  a  blackberry  pie  proves 
that  he's  just  a  natural^  simple,  sane,  original  citizen — 
just  the  kind  of  person  a  girl  can  have  for  a  dear  friend 
without  incurring  the  risk  of  having  to  marry  him." 

"I  repeat  that  this  is  most  extraordinary." 

"Only  because  it  is  an  unusual  thing  for  a  young 
\nan  to  do,  although,  after  all,  why  shouldn't  he  send  me 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  71 

a  blackberry  pie  if  he  thought  a  blackberry  pie  would 
please  me  more  than  an  armful  of  roses?  Besides,  he 
may  send  the  roses  to-morrow." 

"Most  extraordinary!"  the  Colonel  reiterated. 

"What  should  one  expect  from  such  an  extraordinary 
creature?  He's  an  extraordinary  fine-looking  young 
man,  with  an  extraordinary  scowl  and  an  extra 
ordinary  crinkly  smile  that  is  friendly  and  generous 
and  free  from  masculine  guile.  Why,  I  think  he's 
just  the  kind  of  man  who  would  send  a  girl  a  blackberry 
pie." 

The  Colonel  noticed  a  calm  little  smile  fringing  hei 
generous  mouth.  He  wished  he  could  tell,  by  intuition, 
what  she  was  thinking  about — and  what  effect  a  hot 
wild-blackberry  pie  was  ultimately  to  have  upon  the 
value  of  his  minority  holding  in  the  Laguna  Grande 
Lumber  Company. 


CHAPTER  IX 

NOT  until  dinner  was  finished  and  father  and  son 
had  repaired  to  the  library  for  their  coffee  and 
cigars  did  Bryce  Cardigan  advert  to  the  subject 
of  his  fatJier's  business  affairs. 

"Well,  John  Cardigan,"  he  declared  comfortably, 

"to-day  is  Friday.     I'll  spend  Saturday  and  Sunday  in 

sinful  sloth  and  the  renewal  of  old  acquaintance,  and  on 

'Monday  I'll  sit  in  at  your  desk  and  give  you  a  long- 

,  deferred  vacation.   How  about  that  programme,  pard?  " 

"Our  affairs  are  in  such  shape  that  they  could  not 
possibly  be  hurt  or  bettered,  no  matter  who  takes 
charge  of  them  now,"  Cardigan  replied  bitterly. 
"We're  about  through.  I  waited  too  long  and  trusted 
«,oo  far;  and  now — well,  in  a  year  we'll  be  out  of  busi 
ness." 

"Suppose  you  start  at  the  beginning  and  tell  me 
everything  right  to  the  end.  George  Sea  Otter  in 
formed  me  that  you've  been  having  trouble  with  this 
Johnny-come-lately,  Colonel  Pennington.  Is  he  the 
man  who  has  us  where  the  hair  is  short?" 

The  old  man  nodded. 

"The  Squaw  Creek  timber  deal,  eh?"  Bryce  sug 
gested. 

Again  the  old  man  nodded.  "You  wrote  me  all 
about  that,"  Bryce  continued.  "You  had  him  blocked 
whichever  way  he  turned — so  effectually  blocked,  in 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  73 

fact,  that  the  only  pleasure  he  has  derived  from  his  in 
vestment  since  is  the  knowledge  that  he  owns  two 
thousand  acres  of  timber  with  the  exclusive  right  to 
pay  taxes  on  it,  walk  in  it,  look  at  it  and  admire  it — in 
fact,  do  everything  except  log  it,  mill  it,  and  realize  on 
his  investment.  It  must  make  him  feel  like  a  bally 
jackass." 

"On  the  other  hand,"  his  father  reminded  him,  "no 
matter  what  the  Colonel's  feeling  on  that  score  may  be, 
misery  loves  company,  and  not  until  I  had  pulled  out  of 
the  Squaw  Creek  country  and  started  logging  in  the 
San  Hedrin  watershed,  did  I  realize  that  I  had  been  con 
siderable  of  a  jackass  myself ." 

"Yes,"  Bryce  admitted,  "there  can  be  no  doubt 
but  that  you  cut  off  your  nose  to  spite  your  face." 

There  was  silence  between  them  for  several  minutes. 
Bryce's  thoughts  harked  back  to  that  first  season  of 
logging  in  the  San  Hedrin,  when  the  cloud-burst  had 
caught  the  river  filled  with  Cardigan  logs  and  whirled 
them  down  to  the  bay,  to  crash  through  the  log-boom 
at  tidewater  and  continue  out  to  the  open  sea.  In  his 
mind's  eye  he  could  still  see  the  red-ink  figures  on  the 
profit-and-loss  statement  Sinclair,  his  father's  manager, 
had  presented  at  the  end  of  that  year. 

The  old  man  appeared  to  divine  the  trend  of  his  son's 
thoughts.  "Yes,  Bryce,  that  was  a  disastrous  year," 
lie  declared.  "The  mere  loss  of  the  logs  was  a  severe 
blow,  but  in  addition  I  had  to  pay  out  quite  a  little 
money  to  settle  with  my  customers.  I  was  loaded  up 
with  low-priced  orders  that  year,  although  I  didn't 
expect  to  make  any  money.  The  orders  were  merely 
taken  to  keep  the  men  employed.  You  understand, 


74  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

i 

Bryce!  I  had  a  good  crew,  the  finest  in  the  country; 
and  if  I  had  shut  down,  my  men  would  have  scattered 
and — well,  you  know  how  hard  it  is  to  get  that  kind  of  a 
crew  together  again.  Besides,  I  had  never  failed  my 
boys  before,  and  I  couldn't  bear  the  thought  of  failing 
them  then.  Half  the  mills  in  the  country  were  shut 
down  at  the  time,  and  there  was  a  lot  of  distress  among 
the  unemployed.  I  couldn't  do  it,  Bryce." 

Bryce  nodded.  "And  when  you  lost  the  logs,  you 
couldn't  fill  those  low-priced  orders.  Then  the  market 
commenced  to  jump  and  advanced  three  dollars  in 
three  months " 

"Exactly,  my  son.  And  my  customers  began  to 
crowd  me  to  fill  those  old  orders.  Praise  be,  my  regular 
customers  knew  I  wasn't  the  kind  of  lumberman  who 
tries  to  crawl  out  of  filling  low-priced  orders  after  the 
market  has  gone  up.  Nevertheless  I  couldn't  expect 
them  to  suffer  with  me;  my  failure  to  perform  my  con 
tracts,  while  unavoidable,  nevertheless  would  have 
caused  them  a  severe  loss,  and  when  they  were  forced 
to  buy  elsewhere,  I  paid  them  the  difference  between 
the  price  they  paid  my  competitors  and  the  price  at 
which  they  originally  placed  their  orders  with  me. 
And  the  delay  in  delivery  caused  them  further  loss." 

"How  much?" 

"Nearly  a  hundred  thousand — to  settle  for  losses  to 
my  local  customers  alone.  Among  my  orders  I  had 
three  million  feet  of  clear  lumber  for  shipment  to  the 
United  Kingdom,  and  these  foreign  customers,  thinking 
I  was  trying  to  crawfish  on  my  contracts,  sued  me  and 
got  judgment  for  actual  and  exemplary  damages  for  my 
failure  to  perform,  while  the  demurrage  on  the  ships 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  75 

they  sent  to  freight  the  lumber  sent  me  hustling  to  the 
bank  to  borrow  money." 

He  smoked  meditatively  for  a  minute.  "I've  always 
been  land-poor,"  he  explained  apologetically.  "Never 
kept  much  of  a  reserve  working-capital  for  emergencies, 
you  know.  Whenever  I  had  idle  money,  I  put  it  into 
timber  in  the  San  Hedrin  watershed,  because  I  realized 
that  some  day  the  railroad  would  build  in  from  the 
south,  tap  that  timber,  and  double  its  value.  I've  not 
as  yet  found  reason  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of  my  course ; 
but" — he  sighed — "the  railroad  is  a  long  time  coming!" 

John  Cardigan  here  spoke  of  a  most  inportant  factor 
in  the  situation.  The  crying  need  of  the  country  was  a 
feeder  to  some  transcontinental  railroad.  By  reason 
of  natural  barriers,  Humboldt  County  was  not  easily 
accessible  to  the  outside  world  except  from  the  sea,  and 
even  this  avenue  of  ingress  and  egress  would  be  closed 
for  days  at  a  stretch  when  the  harbour  bar  was  on  a 
rampage.  With  the  exception  of  a  strip  of  level,  fertile 
land,  perhaps  five  miles  wide  and  thirty  miles  long 
and  contiguous  to  the  seacoast,  the  heavily  timbered 
mountains  to  the  north,  east,  and  south  rendered  the 
building  of  a  railroad  that  would  connect  Humboldt 
County  with  the  outside  world  a  profoundly  difficult  and 
expensive  task.  The  Northwestern  Pacific,  indeed, 
had  been  slowly  building  from  San  Francisco  Bay  up 
through  Marin  and  Sonoma  counties  to  Willits  in 
Mendocino  County.  But  there  it  had  stuck  to  await 
that  indefinite  day  when  its  finances  and  the  courage  of 
its  board  of  directors  should  prove  equal  to  the  colossal 
task  of  continuing  the  road  two  hundred  miles  through 
the  mountains  to  Sequoia  on  Humboldt  Bay.  For 


76  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

twenty  years  the  Humboldt  pioneers  had  lived  in  hope 
of  this;  but  eventually  they  had  died  in  despair  or  were 
in  process  of  doing  so. 

"Don't  worry,  Dad.  It  will  come,"  Bryce  assured 
his  father.  "It's  bound  to." 

"Yes,  but  not  in  my  day.  And  when  it  comes,  a 
stranger  may  own  your  San  Hedrin  timber  and  reap  the 
reward  of  my  lifetime  of  labour." 

Again  a  silence  fell  between  them,  broken  presently 
by  the  old  man.  "That  was  a  mistake — logging  in  the 
San  Hedrin,"  he  observed.  "I  had  my  lesson  that 
first  year,  but  I  didn't  heed  it.  If  I  had  abandoned  my 
camps  there,  pocketed  my  pride,  paid  Colonel  Penning- 
ton  two  dollars  for  his  Squaw  Creek  timber,  and  rebuilt 
my  old  logging-road,  I  would  have  been  safe  to^lay. 
But  I  was  stubborn;  I'd  played  the  game  so  long,  you 
kno?r — I  didn't  want  to  let  that  man  Pennington 
outgame  me.  So  I  tackled  the  San  Hedrin  again.  We 
put  thirty  million  feet  of  logs  into  the  river  that  year, 
and  when  the  freshet  came,  McTavish  managed  to 
make  a  fairly  successful  drive.  But  he  was  all  winter 
on  the  job,  and  when  spring  came  and  the  men  went 
into  the  woods  again,  they  had  to  leave  nearly  a  million 
feet  of  heavy  butt  logs  permanently  stranded  in  the 
slack  water  along  the  banks,  while  perhaps  another 
million  feet  of  lighter  logs  had  been  lifted  out  of  the 
channel  by  the  overflow  and  left  high  and  dry  when 
the  water  receded.  There  they  were,  Bryce,  scattered 
up  and  down  the  river,  far  from  the  cables  and  logging- 
donkeys,  the  only  power  we  could  use  to  get  those 
monsters  back  into  the  river  again,  and  I  was  forced  to 
decide  whether  they  should  be  abandoned  or  splii 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  77 

during  the  summer  into  railroad  ties,  posts,  pickets, 
and  shakes — commodities  for  which  there  was  v*ry 
frttle  call  at  the  time  and  in  which,  even  when  sold, 
there  could  be  no  profit  after  deducting  the  cost  of  the 
twenty-mile  wagon  haul  to  Sequoia,  and  the  water 
freight  from  Sequoia  to  market.  So  I  abandoned  them." 

"I  remember  that  phase  of  it,  partner." 

"To  log  it  the  third  year  only  meant  that  more  of 
those  heavy  logs  would  jam  and  spell  more  loss.  Be 
sides,  there  was  always  danger  of  another  cloud-burst 
which  would  put  me  out  of  business  completely,  and  I 
couldn't  afford  the  risk." 

"That  was  the  time  you  should  have  offered  Colonel 
Pennington  a  Vandsome  profit  on  his  Squaw  Creek 
timber,  pal." 

"  If  my  hindsight  was  as  good  as  my  foresight,  and  I  had 
my  eyesight,  I  wouldn't  be  in  this  dilemma  at  all,"  the  old 
man  retorted  briskly.  "It's  hard  to  teach  an  old  dog 
new  tricks,  and  besides,  I  was  obsessed  with  the  need  of 
protecting  your  heritage  from  attack  in  any  direction." 

John  Cardigan  straightened  up  in  his  chair  and  laid 
the  tip  of  his  right  index  finger  in  the  centre  of  the 
palm  of  his  left  hand.  "Here  was  the  situation, 
Bryce:  The  centre  of  my  palm  represents  Sequoia; 
the  end  of  my  fingers  represents  the  San  Hedrin  timber 
twenty  miles  south.  Now,  if  the  railroad  built  in  from 
the  south,  you  would  win.  But  if  it  built  in  from 
Grant's  Pass,  Oregon,  on  the  north  from  the  base  of 
my  hand,  the  terminus  of  the  line  would  be  Sequoia, 
twenty  miles  from  your  timber  in  the  San  Hedrin 
watershed!" 

Bryce  nodded.     "In  which  event,"  he  replied,  "we 


78  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

would  be  in  much  the  same  position  with  our  San  Hed- 
rin  timber  as  Colonel  Pennington  is  with  his  Squaw 
Creek  timber.  We  would  have  the  comforting  know 
ledge  that  we  owned  it  and  paid  taxes  on  it  but  couldn't 
do  a  dad-burned  thing  with  it ! " 

" Right  you  are!  The  thing  to  do,  then,  as  I  viewed 
the  situation,  Bryce,  was  to  acquire  a  body  of  timber 
north  of  Sequoia  and  be  prepared  for  either  eventuality. 
And  this  I  did." 

Silence  again  descended  upon  them;  and  Bryce,  gaz 
ing  into  the  open  fireplace,  recalled  an  event  in  that 
period  of  his  father's  activities:  Old  Bill  Henderson 
had  come  up  to  their  house  to  dinner  one  night,  and 
quite  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  his  soup,  the  old  fox  had 
glared  across  at  his  host  and  bellowed : 

"John,  I  hear  you've  bought  six  thousand  acres  up 
in  Township  Nine." 

John  Cardigan  had  merely  nodded,  and  Henderson 
had  continued : 

"Going  to  log  it  or  hold  it  for  investment?" 

"It  was  a  good  buy,"  Cardigan  had  replied  enig 
matically;  "so  I  thought  I'd  better  take  it  at  the  price. 
I  suppose  Bryce  will  log  it  some  day." 

"Then  I  wish  Bryce  wasn't  such  a  boy,  John.  See 
here,  now,  neighbour.  I'll  'fess  up.  I  took  that  money 
Pennington  gave  me  for  my  Squaw  Creek  timber  and 
put  it  back  into  redwood  in  Township  Nine,  slam-bang 
up  against  your  holdings  there.  John,  I'd  build  a  mill 
on  tidewater  if  you'd  sell  me  a  site,  and  I'd  log  my 
timber  if " 

"I'll  sell  you  a  mill-site, Bill,  and  I  won't  stab  you  to 
the  heart,  either.  Consider  that  settled." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  79 

"That's  bully,  John;  but  still,  you  only  dispose  o! 
part  of  my  troubles.  There's  twelve  miles  of  logging- 
road  to  build  to  get  my  logs  to  the  mill,  and  I  haven't 
enough  ready  money  to  make  the  grade.  Better  throw 
in  with  me,  John,  and  we'll  build  the  road  and  operate 
it  for  cur  joint  interest." 

"I'll  not  throw  in  with  you,  Bill,  at  my  time  of  life, 
I  don't  want  to  have  the  worry  of  building,  maintaining, 
-uid  operating  twelve  miles  of  private  railroad.  But 
I'll  loan  you,  without  security 

"You'll  have  to  take  an  unsecured  note,  John. 
Everything  I've  got  is  hocked." 

" — the  money  you  need  to  build  and  equip  the  road," 
finished  Cardigan.  "In  return  you  are  to  shoulder  all 
the  grief  and  worry  of  the  road  and  give  me  a  ten-year 
contract  at  a  dollar  and  a  half  per  thousand  feet,  to  haul 
rny  logs  down  to  tidewater  with  your  own.  My  mini 
mum  haul  will  be  twenty-five  million  feet  annually,  and 
iny  maximum  fifty  million " 

"  Sold ! "  cried  Henderson.     And  it  was  even  so. 

Bryce  came  out  of  his  reverie.  "And  now?"  he 
queried  of  his  father. 

"I  mortgaged  the  San  Hedrin  timber  in  the  south 
to  buy  the  timber  in  the  north,  my  son;  then  after  I 
commenced  logging  in  my  new  holdings,  came  several 
long,  lean  years  of  f amine.  I  stuck  it  out,  hoping  for  a 
change  for  the  better;  I  couldn't  bear  to  close  down  my 
mill  and  logging-camps,  for  the  reason  that  I  could 
stand  the  loss  far  more  readily  than  the  men  who 
worked  for  me  and  depended  upon  me.  But  the  market 
dragged  in  the  doldrums,  and  Bill  Henderson  died,  and 
his  boys  got  discouraged,  and " 


80  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

A  sudden  flash  of  inspiration  illumined  Bryce  Cardi 
gan's  brain.  "And  they  sold  out  to  Colonel  Penning- 
ton,"  he  cried. 

"Exactly.  The  Colonel  took  over  my  contract  with 
Henderson's  company,  along  with  the  other  assets, 
and  i\f  was  incumbent  upon  him,  as  assignee,  to  fulfill 
the  contract.  For  the  past  two  years  the  market 
for  redwood  has  been  most  gratifying,  and  if  I  could 
only  have  gotten  a  maximum  supply  of  logs  over 
Pennington's  road,  I'd  have  worked  out  of  the  hole, 
but- 

"He  manages  to  hold  you  to  a  minimum  annual 
haul  of  twenty -five  million  feei;,  eh?" 

John  Cardigan  nodded.  "He  claims  he's  short  of 
rolling-stock — that  wrecks  and  fires  have  embarrassed 
the  road.  He  can  always  find  excuses  for  failing  to 
spot  in  logging- trucks  for  Cardigan's  logs.  Bill  Hen 
derson  never  played  the  game  that  way.  He  gave  me 
what  I  wanted  and  never  held  me  to  the  miriimum 
haulage  when  I  was  prepared  to  give  him  the  maximum." 

"What  does  Colonel  Pennington  want,  pard?" 

"He  wants,"  said  John  Cardigan  slowly,  "my  Valley 
of  the  Giants  and  a  right  of  way  through  my  land  from 
the  valley  to  a  log-dump  on  deep  water." 

"And  you  refused  him?" 

"  Naturally.  You  know  my  ideas  on  that  big  timber." 
His  old  head  sank  low  on  his  breast.  "Folks  call  them 
Cardigan's  Redwoods  now,"  he  murmured.  "Car 
digan's  Redwoods — and  Pennington  would  cut  them! 
Oh,  Bryce,  the  man  hasn't  a  soul!" 

"But  I  fail  to  see  what  the  loss  of  Cardigan's  Red 
woods  has  to  do  with  the  impending  ruin  of  the 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  81 

CardiganRedwoodLumberCompany,"  his  son  reminded 
him.     "We  have  all  the  timber  we  want." 

"My  ten-year  contract  has  but  one  more  year  to  run, 
and  recently  I  tried  to  get  Pennington  to  renew  it.  He 
was  very  nice  and  sociable,  but — he  named  me  a  freight- 
rate,  for  a  renewal  of  the  contract  for  five  years,  of  three 
dollars  per  thousand  feet.  That  rate  is  prohibitive  and 
puts  us  out  of  business." 

"Not  necessarily,"  Bryce  returned  evenly.  "How 
about  the  State  railroad  commission?  Hasn't  it  got 
something  to  say  about  rates?  " 

"Yes — on  common  carriers.  But  Pennington's 
load  is  a  private  logging-road;  my  contract  will  expire 
next  year,  and  it  is  not  incumbent  upon  Pennington  to 
renew  it.  And  one  can't  operate  a  sawmill  without 
logs,  you  know." 

"Then,"  said  Bryce  calmly,  "we'll  shut  the  mill 
down  when  the  log-hauling  contract  expires,  hold  our 
timber  as  an  investment,  and  live  the  simple  life  until 
we  can  sell  it  or  a  transcontinental  road  builds  into 
Humboldt  County  and  enables  us  to  start  up  the  mill 
again." 

John  Cardigan  shook  his  head.  "I'm  mortgaged  to 
the  last  penny,"  he  confessed,  "and  Pennington  has 
been  buying  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company 
first-mortgage  bonds  until  he  is  in  control  of  the  issue. 
He'll  buy  in  the  San  Hedrin  timber  at  the  foreclosure 
sale,  and  in  order  to  get  it  back  and  save  something  for 
you  out  of  the  wreckage,  I'll  have  to  make  an  unprofi 
table  trade  with  him.  I'll  have  to  give  him  my  timber 
adjoining  his  north  of  Sequoia,  together  with  my 
Valley  of  the  Giants,  in  return  for  the  San  Hedrin 


82          THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

timber,  to  which  he'D  have  a  sheriff's  deed.  But  the 
mill,  all  my  old  employees,  with  their  numerous  de 
pendents — gone,  with  you  left  land-poor  and  without  a 
dollar  to  pay  your  taxes.  Smashed — Kke^that!"  And 
he  drove  his  fist  into  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"Perhaps — but  not  without  a  fight,"  Bryce  an 
swered,  although  he  knew  their  plight  was  well-nigh 
hopeless.  "I'll  give  that  man  Pennington  a  run  for 
his  money,  or  I'll  know  the  reason." 

The  telephone  on  the  table  beside  him  tinkled,  and 
he  took  down  the  receiver  and  said  "Hello!" 

"Mercy!"  came  the  clear,  sweet  voice  of  Shirley 
Sumner  over  the  wire.  "Do  you  feel  as  savage  as  all 
that,  Mr.  Cardigan?" 

For  the  second  time  in  his  life  the  thrill  that  was  akin 
to  pain  came  to  Bryce  Cardigan.  He  laughed.  "If  I 
had  known  you  were  calling,  Miss  Sumner,"  he  said> 
"I  shouldn't  have  growled  so." 

"Well,  you're  forgiven — for  several  reasons,  but 
principally  for  sending  me  that  delicious  blackberry 
pie.  Of  course,  it  discoloured  my  teeth  temporarily, 
but  I  don't  care.  The  pie  was  worth  it,  and  you  were 
awfully  dear  to  think  of  sending  it.  Thank  you  so 
much." 

"Glad  you  liked  it,  Miss  Sumner.  I  dare  to  hope 
that  I  may  have  the  privilege  of  seeing  you  soon  again." 

"Of  course.  One  good  pie  deserves  another.  Some 
evening  next  week,  when  that  dear  old  daddy  of  yours 
can  spare  his  boy,  you  might  be  interested  to  see  our 
burl-redwood-panelled  dining  room  Uncle  Seth  is  so 
proud  of.  I'm  too  recent  an  arrival  to  know  the  hour 
ivt  which  Uncle  Seth  dines,  but  I'll  let  you  know  later 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  83 

and  name  a  definite  date.  Would  Thursday  night  be 
convenient?" 

"Perfectly.     Thank  you  a  thousand  times." 

She  bade  him  good-night.  As  he  turned  from  the 
telephone,  his  father  looked  up.  "  What  are  you  going 
to  do  to-morrow,  lad?"  he  queried. 

"I  have  to  do  some  thinking  to-morrow,"  Bryce 
answered.  "So  I'm  going  up  into  Cardigan's  Red 
woods  to  do  it.  Up  there  a  fellow  can  get  set,  as  it 
were,  to  put  over  a  thought  with  a  punch  in  it." 

"The  dogwoods  and  rhododendron  are  blooming 
now,"  the  old  man  murmured  wistfully.  Bryce  knew 
what  he  was  thinking  of.  "  I'll  attend  to  the  flowers  for 
Mother,"  he  assured  Cardigan,  and  he  added  fiercely: 
"And  I'll  attend  to  the  battle  for  Father.  We  may 
lose,  but  that  man  Pennington  will  know  he's  been  in  a 
fight  before  we  fin " 

He  broke  off  abruptly,  for  he  had  just  remembered 
that  he  was  to  dine  at  the  Pennington  house  the  follow 
ing  Thursday — and  he  was  not  the  sort  of  man  who 
smilingly  breaks  bread  with  his  enemy. 


CHAPTER  X 

FOR  many  years  there  had  been  installed  in  Car 
digan's  mill  a  clock  set  to  United  States  observ 
atory  time  and  corrected  hourly  by  the  telegraph 
company.  It  was  the  only  clock  of  its  kind  in  Sequoia; 
hence  folk  set  their  watches  by  it,  or  rather  by  the 
whistle  on  Cardigan's  mill.  With  a  due  appreciation 
of  the  important  function  of  this  clock  toward  his 
fellow-citizens,  old  Zeb  Curry,  the  chief  engineer  and  a 
stickler  for  being  on  time,  was  most  meticulous  in  his 
whistle-blowing.  With  a  sage  and  prophetic  eye  fixed 
upon  the  face  of  the  clock,  and  a  particularly  greasy 
hand  grasping  the  whistle-cord,  Zeb  would  wait  until 
the  clock  registered  exactly  six-fifty-nine  and  a  half — • 
whereupon  the  seven  o'clock  whistle  would  commence 
blowing,  to  cease  instantly  upon  the  stroke  of  the  hour. 
It  was  old  Zeb's  pride  and  boast  that  with  a  single 
exception,  during  the  sixteen  years  the  clock  had  been 
in  service,  no  man  could  say  that  Zeb  had  been  more 
than  a  second  late  or  early  with  his  whistle-blowing. 
That  exception  occurred  when  Bryce  Cardigan,  invading 
the  engine  room  while  Zeb  was  at  luncheon,  looped  the 
whistle-cord  until  the  end  dangled  seven  feet  above 
ground.  As  a  consequence  Zeb,  who  was  a  short,  fat 
little  man,  was  forced  to  leap  at  it  several  times  before 
success  crowned  his  efforts  and  the  whistle  blew.  There 
after  for  the  remainder  of  the  day  his  reason  tottered  on 

84 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  85 

its  throne,  due  to  the  fact  that  Bryce  induced  every 
mill  employee  to  call  upon  the  engineer  and  remind  him 
that  he  must  be  growing  old,  since  he  was  no  longer  de 
pendable! 

On  the  morning  following  Bryce  Cardigan's  return 
to  Sequoia,  Zeb  Curry,  as  per  custom,  started  his 
engine  at  six  fifty-eight.  That  gave  the  huge  band- 
saws  two  minutes  in  which  to  attain  their  proper  speed 
and  afforded  Dan  Kenyon,  the  head  sawyer,  ample  time 
to  run  his  steam  log-carriage  out  to  the  end  of  the  track; 
for  Daniel,  too,  was  a  reliable  man  in  the  matter  of 
starting  his  daily  uproar  on  time. 

At  precisely  six  fifty-nine  and  a  half,  therefore,  the 
engineer's  hand  closed  over  the  handle  of  the  whistle- 
cord,  and  Dan  Kenyon,  standing  on  the  steam-carriage 
with  his  hand  on  the  lever,  took  a  thirty-second  squint 
through  a  rather  grimy  window  that  gave  upon  the 
drying-yard  and  the  mill-office  at  the  head  of  it. 

The  whistle  ceasedblowing,  but  still  Dan  Kenyon  stood 
at  his  post,  oblivious  of  the  hungry  saws.  Ten  seconds 
passed;  then  Zeb  Curry,  immeasurably  scandalized  at 
Daniel's  tardiness,  tooted  the  whistle  sharply  twice; 
whereupon  Dan  woke  up,  threw  over  the  lever,  and 
walked  his  log  up  to  the  saw. 

For  the  next  five  hours  Zeb  Curry  had  no  oppor 
tunity  to  discuss  the  matter  with  the  head  sawyer. 
After  blowing  the  twelve  o'clock  whistle,  however,  he 
hurried' over  to  the  dining-hall,  where  the  mill  hands 
already  lined  the  benches,  shovelling  food  into  their 
mouths  as  only  a  lumberman  or  a  miner  can.  Dan 
Kenyon  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table  in  the  place  of  honour 
sacred  to  the  head  sawyer,  and  when  his  mouth  would 


86          THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

permit  of  some  activity  other  than  mastication,  Zeb 
Curry  caught  his  eye. 

"Hey,  you,  Dan  Kenyon,"  he  shouted  across  the 
table,  "what  happened  to  you  this  mornin'?  It  was 
sixteen  seconds  between  the  tail  end  o'  my  whistle  an' 
the  front  end  o'  your  whimn'.  First  thing  you  know, 
you'll  be  gettin'  so  slack  an'  careless-like  some  other 
man'll  be  ridin'  that  log-carriage  o'  yourn." 

"I  was  struck  dumb,"  Dan  Kenyon  replied.  "I  just 
stood  there  like  one  o'  these  here  graven  images.  Last 
night  on  my  way  home  from  work  I  heerd  the  young 
feller  was  back— he  got  in  just  as  we  was  knockin'  off 
for  the  day;  an'  this  mornin'  just  as  you  cut  loose,  Zeb, 
I'll  be  danged  if  he  didn't  show  up  in  front  o'  the  office 
door,  fumblin'  for  the  keyhole.  Yes,  sirree!  That  boy 
gets  in  at  six  o'clock  last  night  an' turns  to  on  his  paw's 
job  when  the  whistle  blows  this  mornin'  at  seven." 

"You  mean  young  Bryce  Cardigan?"  Zeb  queried 
incredulously. 

"I  shore  do." 

"Tain't  possible,"  Zeb  declared.  "You  seen  a  new 
bookkeeper,  mebbe,  but  you  didn't  see  Bryce.  He 
aint  no  such  hog  for  labour  as  his  daddy  before  him,  I'm 
tellin'  you.  Not  that  there's  a  lazy  bone  in  his  body, 
for  there  ain't,  but  because  that  there  boy's  got  too 
much  sense  to  come  bollin'  down  to  work  at  seven 
o'clock  the  very  first  mornin'  he's  back  from  Yurrup." 

"I'm  layin'  you  ten  to  one  I  seen  him,"  Dan  replied 
defiantly,  "an'  what's  more,  I'll  bet  a  good  cigar — a 
ten-center  straight — the  boy  don't  leave  till  six  o'clock 
to-night." 

*' You're  on,"  answered  the  chief  engineer.     "  Them's 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  87 

lumberjack  hours,  man.  From  seven  till  six  means 
work — an'  only  fools  an'  bosses  keeps  them  hours." 

The  head  sawyer  leaned  across  the  table  and  pounded 
with  the  handle  of  his  knife  until  he  had  the  attention 
of  all  present.  "I'm  a-goin'  to  tell  you  young  fellers 
somethin',"  he  announced.  "Ever  since  the  old  boss 
got  so  he  couldn't  look  after  his  business  with  his  own 
eyes,  things  has  been  goin'  to  blazes  round  this  sawmill, 
but  they  ain't  a-goin'  no  more.  How  do  I  know?  Well, 
I'll  tell  you.  All  this  forenoon  I  kept  my  eye  on  the 
office  door — I  can  see  it  through  a  mill  winder;  an'  I'm 
tellin'  you  the  old  boss  didn't  show  up  -till  ten  o'clock, 
which  the  old  man  ain't  never  been  a  ten  o'clock  business 
man  at  no  time.  Don't  that  prove  the  boy's  took 
his  place?" 

Confused  murmurs  of  affirmation  and  negation  ran 
up  and  down  the  long  table.  Dan  tapped  with  his 
knife  again.  "You  hear  me,"  he  warned.  "Thirty 
year  I've  been  ridin'  John  Cardigan's  log-carriages; 
thirty  year  I've  been  gettin'  everythin'  out  of  a  log  it's 
possible  to  git  out,  which  is  more'n  you  fellers  at  the 
trimmers  can  git  out  of  a  board  after  I've  sawed  it  off 
the  cant.  There's  a  lot  o'  you  young  fellers  that've 
been  takin'  John  Cardigan's  money  under  false  pre 
tenses,  so  if  I  was  you  I'd  keep  both  eyes  on  my  job 
hereafter.  For  a  year  I've  been  clainiin'  that  good 
No.  2  stock  has  been  chucked  into  the  slab-fire  as  refuge 
lumber."  (Dan  meant  refuse  lumber.)  "But  it  won't 
be  done  no  more.  The  raftsman  tells  me  he  seen  Bryce 
down  at  the  end  o'  the  conveyin'  belt  givin'  that  refuge 
the  once-over — so  step  easy." 

"What  does  young  Cardigan  know  about  runnin'  a 


88  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

sawmill?"  a  planer-man  demanded  bluntly.  "They 
tell  me  he's  been  away  to  college  an'  travellin'  the  past 
six  years." 

"Wa-11,"  drawled  the  head  sawyer,  "you  git  to 
talkin'  with  him  some  day  an'  see  how  much  he  knows 
about  runnin'  a  sawmill.  What  he  knows  will  surprise 
you.  Yes,  indeed,  you'll  find  he  knows  considerable. 
He's  picked  up  loose  shingles  around  the  yard  an* 
bundled  'em  in  vacation  times,  an'  I  want  to  see  the 
shingle-weaver  that  can  teach  him  some  tricks.  Also, 
I've  had  him  come  up  on  the  steam  carriage  more'n 
once  an'  saw  up  logs,  while  at  times  I've  seen  him  put 
in  a  week  or  two  on  the  sortin'  table.  In  a  pinch,  with 
a  lot  o'  vessels  loadin'  here  at  the  dock  an'  the  skippers 
raisin'  Cain  because  they  wasn't  gettin'  their  cargo 
fast  enough,  I've  seen  him  work  nights  an'  Sundays 
tallyin'  with  the  best  o'  them.  Believe  me  that  boy 
can  grade  lumber." 

"An' I'll  tell  you  somethin' else,"  Zeb  Curry  cut  in. 
"If  the  new  boss  ever  tells  you  to  do  a  thing  his  way, 
you  do  it  an'  don't  argue  none  as  to  whether  he  knows 
more  about  it  than  you  do  or  not." 

"A  whole  lot  o'  dagos  an'  bohunks  that's  come  into 
the  woods  since  tke  blue-noses  an'  canucks  an'  wild 
Irish  went  out  had  better  keep  your  eyes  open,"  Dan 
Kenyon  warned  sagely.  "There  ain't  none  o'  you  any 
better'n  you  ought  to  be,  an'  things  have  been  pretty 
durned  slack  around  Cardigan's  mill  since  the  old  man 
went  blind,  but — you  watch  out.  There's  a  change 
due.  Bryce  Cardigan  is  his  father's  son.  He'll  do 
things." 

^  Which  he's  big  enough  to  throw  a  bear  uphill  by 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  89 

the  tail,"  Zeb  Curry  added,  "an'  you  fellers  all  know 
how  much  tail  a  bear  has." 

"Every  mornin'  for  thirty  years,  'ceptin'  when  we 
was  shut  down  for  repairs,"  Dan  continued,  "I've 
looked  through  that  winder,  when  John  Cardigan 
wasn't  away  from  Sequoia,  to  watch  him  git  to  his 
office  on  time.  He's  there  when  the  whistle  blows, 
clear  up  to  the  time  his  eyes  go  back  on  him,  an'  then 
he  arrives  late  once  or  twice  on  account  o'  havin'  to  go 
careful.  This  mornin',  for  the  first  time  in  fifty  year,  he 
stays  in  bed;  but — his  son  has  the  key  in  the  office  door 
when  the  whistle  blows,  an'- 

Dan  Kenyon  paused  abruptly;  the  hum  of  con 
versation  ceased,  and  silence  fell  upon  the  room  as 
Bryce  Cardigan  strolled  in  the  door,  nodded  to  the 
men,  and  slid  in  on  the  bench  to  a  seat  beside  the  head 
sawyer. 

"Hello,  Dan — hello,  Zeb,"  he  said  and  shook  hands 
with  each.  "I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you  both  again. 
Hello,  everybody.  I'm  the  new  boss,  so  I  suppose  I'd 
better  introduce  myself — there  are  so  many  new  faces 
here.  I'm  Bryce  Cardigan." 

"Yes,"  Zeb  Curry  volunteered,  "an'  he's  like  his 
daddy.  He  ain't  ashamed  to  work  with  his  men,  an* 
he  ain't  ashamed  to  eat  with  his  men,  nuther.  Glad 
you're  back  with  us  again,  boy — mighty  glad.  Dan, 
here,  he's  gittin'  slacker'n  an  old  squaw  with  his  work 
an'  needs  somebody  to  jerk  him  up,  while  the  rest  o' 
these  here— 

"I  noticed  that  about  Dan,"  Bryce  interrupted 
craftily.  "He's  slowing  up,  Zeb.  He  must  have  been 
fifteen  seconds  late  this  morning — or  perhaps,"  he 


90  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

added,  'you  were  fifteen  seconds  earlier  than  the 
clock." 

Dan  grinned,  and  Bryce  went  on  seriously:  "I'm 
afraid  you're  getting  too  old  to  ride  the  log-carriage, 
Dan.  You've  been  at  it  a  long  time;  so,  with  the  ut 
most  good  will  in  the  world  toward  you,  you're  fired. 
I  might  as  well  tell  you  now.  You  know  me,  Dan.  I 
always  did  dislike  beating  about  the  bush." 

"Fired!"  Dan  Kenyon's  eyes  popped  with  amaze^ 
inent  and  horror.  "Fired — after  thirty  years!"  he 
croaked. 

"Fired!"  There  was  unmistakable  finality  in 
Bryce's  tones.  "You're  hired  again,  however,  at  a 
higher  salary,  as  mill-superintendent.  You  can  get 
away  with  that  job,  can't  you,  Dan?  In  fact,"  he 
added  without  waiting  for  the  overjoyed  Dan  to  answer 
him,  "you've  got  to  get  away  with  it,  because  I  dis 
charged  the  mill-superintendent  I  found  on  the  job 
when  I  got  down  here  this  morning.  He's  been  letting 
too  many  profits  go  into  the  slab-fire.  In  fact,  the 
entire  plant  has  gone  to  glory.  Fire-hose  old  and 
rotten — couldn't  stand  a  hundred-pound  pressure; 
fire-buckets  and  water-barrels  empty,  axes  not  in  their 
proper  places,  fire-extinguishers  filled  with  stale  chem 
ical — why,  the  smallest  kind  of  a  fire  here  would  get 
beyond  our  control  with  that  man  on  the  job.  Be 
sides,  he's  changed  the  grading-rules.  I  found  the  men 
putting  clear  boards  with  hard-grained  streaks  in  them 
in  with  the  No.  1  clear.  The  customer  may  not  kick 
at  a  small  percentage  of  No.  2  in  his  No.  1  but  it's  only 
fair  to  give  it  to  him  at  two  dollars  a  thousand  less." 

"Well,"  purred  Zeb  Curry,  "they  don't  grade  lumber 


"  All  about  Bryce  were  scenes  of  activity,  of  human  en 
deavour;  and  to  him  in  that  moment  came  the  thought:  'My 
father  brought  all  this  to  pass  — and  now  the  task  of  continu 
ing  it  is  miner99 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  91 

as  strict  nowadays  as  they  used  to  before  you  went  away. 
Colonel  Pennington  says  we're  a  lot  o'  back  numbers  out 
this  way  an'  too  generous  with  our  grades.  First  thing 
he  did  was  to  call  a  meetin'  of  all  the  Humboldt  lumber 
manufacturers  an'  organize  'em  into  an  association/ 
Then  he  had  the  gradin'-rules  changed.  The  retailers 
hollered  for  a  while,  but  bimeby  they  got  used  to  it." 

"Did  my  father  join  that  association?"  Bryce  de 
manded  quickly. 

"Yes.  He  told  Pennington  he  wasn't  goin'  to  be 
no  obstructionist  in  the  trade,  but  he  did  kick  like  a 
bay  steer  on  them  new  gradin'-rules  an'  refused  to  con 
form  to  'em.  Said  he  was  too  old  an'  had  been  too 
long  in  business  to  start  gougin'  his  customers  at  his 
time  o'  life.  So  he  got  out  o'  the  association." 

"Bully  for  John  Cardigan!"  Bryce  declared.  "I 
suppose  we  could  make  a  little  more  money  by  cheapen 
ing  our  grade,  but  the  quality  of  our  lumber  is  so  well 
known  that  it  sells  itself  and  saves  us  the  expense  of 
maintaining  a  corps  of  salesmen." 

"From  what  I  hear  tell  o'  the  Colonel,"  Dan  observed 
sagely,  "the  least  he  ever  wants  is  a  hundred  and  fifty 
per  cent,  the  best  of  it." 

"Yes,"  old  Zeb  observed  gravely,  "an'  so  fur  as  I  can 
see,  he  ain't  none  too  perticular  how  he  gets  it."  He 
helped  himself  to  a  toothpick,  and  followed  by  the  head 
sawyer,  abruptly  left  the  room — after  the  fashion  of 
sawmill  men  and  woodsmen,  who  eat  as  much  as  they 
can  as  quickly  as  they  can  and  eventually  di©  of  old  age 
rather  than  indigestion.  Bryce  ate  his  noonday  meal 
in  more  leisurely  fashion  and  at  its  conclusion  stepped 
into  the  kitchen. 


92  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Where  do  you  live,  cook?"  he  demanded  of  that 
functionary;  and  upon  being  informed,  lie  retired  to 
the  office  and  called  up  the  Sequoia  meat-market. 

"Bryce  Cardigan  speaking,"  he  informed  the  butcher. 
"Do  you  ever  buy  any  pigs  from  our  mill  cook?" 

"Not  any  more,"  the  butcher  answered.  "He 
stung  me  once  with  a  dozen  fine  shoats.  They  looked 
great,  but  after  I  had  slaughtered  them  and  had  them 
dressed,  they  turned  out  to  be  swill-fed  hogs — swill  and 
alfalfa." 

"Thank  you."  Bryce  hung  up.  "I  knew  that 
cook  was  wasteful,"  he  declared,  turning  to  his  father's 
old  manager,  one  Thomas  Sinclair.  "He  wastes  food 
in  order  to  take  the  swill  home  to  his  hogs — and  no 
body  watches  him.  Things  have  certainly  gone  to  the 
devil,"  he  continued 

"No  fault  of  mine,"  Sinclair  protested.  "I've 
never  paid  any  attention  to  matters  outside  the  office. 
Your  father  looked  after  everything  else." 

Bryce  looked  at  Sinclair.  The  latter  was  a  thin, 
spare,  nervous  man  in  the  late  fifties,  and  though  gen 
erally  credited  with  being  John  Cardigan's  manager, 
Bryce  knew  that  Sinclair  was  in  reality  little  more 
than  a  glorified  bookkeeper — and  a  very  excellent 
bookkeeper  indeed.  Bryce  realized  that  in  the  colossal 
task  that  confronted  him  he  could  expect  no  real  help 
from  Sinclair. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "my  father  looked  after  every 
thing  else — while  he  could." 

"Oh,  you'll  soon  get  the  business  straightened  out 
and  running  smoothly  again,"  Sinclair  declared  con 
fidently. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  99 

"Well,  I'm  glad  I  started  on  the  job  to-day,  rather 
than  next  Monday,  as  I  planned  to  do  last,  night." 

He  stepped  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  At  the 
mill-dock  a  big  steam  schooner  and  a  wind-jammer 
lay;  in  the  lee  of  the  piles  of  lumber,  sailors  and  long 
shoremen,  tallymen  and  timekeeper  lounged,  enjoying 
the  brief  period  of  the  noon  hour  still  theirs  before  the 
driving  mates  of  the  lumber-vessels  should  turn  them 
to  on  the  job  once  more.  To  his  right  and  left  stretched 
the  drying  yard,  gangway  on  gangway  formed  by  the 
serried  rows  of  lumber-piles,  the  hoop-horses  placidly 
feeding  from  their  nosebags  while  the  strong-armed 
fellows  who  piled  the  lumber  sat  about  in  little  groups 
conversing  with  the  mill-hands. 

As  Bryce  looked,  a  puff  of  white  steam  appeared 
over  the  roof  of  the  old  sawmill,  and  the  one  o'clock 
whistle  blew.  Instantly  that  scene  of  indolence  and 
ease  turned  to  one  of  activity.  The  mill-hands  loung 
ing  in  the  gangways  scurried  for  their  stations  in  the 
mill;  men  climbed  to  the  tops  of  the  lumber-piles, 
while  other  men  passed  boards  and  scantlings  up  to 
them;  the  donkey-engines  aboard  the  vessels  rattled; 
the  cargo-gaffs  of  the  steam  schooner  swung  outward, 
and  a  moment  later  two  great  sling-loads  of-  newly 
sawed  lumber  rose  in  the  air,  swung  inward,  and  de 
scended  to  the  steamer's  decks. 

All  about  Bryce  were  scenes  of  activity,  of  human 
endeavour;  and  to  him  in  that  moment  came  the 
thought:  "My  father  brought  all  this  to  pass — and 
now  the  task  of  continuing  it  is  mine!  All  those  men 
who  earn  a  living  in  Cardigan's  mill  and  on  Cardigan's 
dock — those  sailors  who  sail  the  ships  that  carry  C 


34  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

digan's  lumber  into  the  distant  marts  of  men — are  de 
pendent  upon  me;  and  my  father  used  to  tell  me  not 
to  fail  them.  Must  my  father  have  wrought  all  this  in 
vain?  And  must  I  stand  by  and  see  all  this  go  to  sat 
isfy  the  overwhelming  ambition  of  a  stranger? "  His 
big  hands  clenched.  "No!"  he  growled  savagely. 

"If  I  stick  around  this  office  a  minute  longer,  I'll  go 
crazy,"  Bryce  scried  then.  "Give  me  your  last  five 
annual  statements,  Mr.  Sinclair,  please." 

The  old  servitor  brought  forth  the  documents  in 
question.  Bryce  stuffed  them  into  his  pocket  and 
left  the  office.  Three  quarters  of  an  hour  later  he  en 
tered  the  little  amphitheatre  in  the  Valley  of  the 
Giants  and  paused  with  an  expression  of  dismay.  One 
of  the  giants  had  fallen  and  lay  stretched  across  the 
little  clearing.  In  its  descent  it  had  demolished  the 
little  white  stone  over  his  mother's  grave  and  had 
driven  the  fragments  of  the  stone  deep  into  the  earth. 

The  tremendous  brown  butt  quite  ruined  the  appear 
ance  of  the  amphitheatre  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  it 
constituted  a  barrier  some  fifteen  feet  high  and  of 
equal  thickness  athwart  the  centre  of  the  clearing, 
with  fully  three  quarters  of  the  length  of  the  tree  lost 
to  sight  where  the  fallen  monarch  had  wedged  between 
its  more  fortunate  fellows.  The  fact  that  the  tree  was 
down,  however,  was  secondary  to  the  fact  that  neither 
wind  nor  lightning  had  brought  it  low,  but  rather  the 
impious  hand  of  man;  for  the  great  jagged  stump 
showed  all  too  plainly  the  marks  of  cross-cut  saw  and 
axe;  a  pile  of  chips  four  feet  deep  littered  the  ground. 

For  fully  a  minute  Bryce  stood  dumbly  gazing  upon 
the  sacrilege  before  his  rage  and  horror  found  vent  in 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  95 

words.  "An  enemy  has  done  this  thing,"  he  cried 
aloud  to  the  wood-goblins.  "And  over  her  grave!" 

Presently,  smothering  his  emotion,  he  walked  the 
length  of  the  dead  giant,  and  where  the  top  tapered 
off  to  a  size  that  would  permit  of  his  stepping  across  it, 
he  retraced  his  steps  on  the  other  side  of  the  tree  until 
he  had  reached  a  point  some  fifty  feet  from  the  butt — 
when  the  vandal's  reason  for  felling  the  monster  be 
came  apparent. 

It  was  a  burl  tree.  At  the  point  where  Bryce 
paused  a  malignant  growth  had  developed  on  the 
trunk  of  the  tree,  for  all  the  world  like  a  tremendous 
wart.  This  was  the  burl,  so  prized  for  table-tops  and 
panelling  because  of  the  fact  that  the  twisted,  wavy, 
helter-skelter  grain  lends  to  the  wood  an  extraordinary 
beauty  when  polished.  Bryce  noted  that  the  work  of 
removing  this  excrescence  had  been  accomplished  very 
neatly.  With  a  cross-cut  saw  the  growth,  perhaps  ten 
feet  in  diameter,  had  been  neatly  sliced  off  much  as  a- 
housewife  cuts  slice  after  slice  from  a  loaf  of  bread, 
He  guessed  that  these  slices,  practically  circular  in 
shape,  had  been  rolled  out  of  the  woods  to  some  con 
veyance  waiting  to  receive  them. 

What  Bryce  could  not  understand,  however,  was  the 
stupid  brutality  of  the  raiders  in  felling  the  tree  merely 
for  that  section  of  burl.  By  permitting  the  tree  to 
stand  and  merely  building  a  staging  up  to  the  burl,  the 
latter  could  have  been  removed  without  vital  injury 
to  the  tree — whereas  by  destroying  the  tree  the  wretches 
had  evidenced  all  too  clearly  to  Bryce  a  wanton  desire 
to  add  insult  to  injury. 

Bryce  inspected  the  scars  on  the  stump  carefully. 


96  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

They  were  weather-stained  to  such  an  extent  that  to 
his  experienced  eye  it  was  evident  the  outrage  had  been 
committed  more  than  a  year  previously;  and  the  winter 
rains,  not  to  mention  the  spring  growth  of  grasses  and 
underbrush,  had  effectually  destroyed  all  trace  of  the 
trail  taken  by  the  vandals  with  their  booty. 

"Poor  old  Dad!"  he  murmured.  "I'm  glad  now  he 
has  been  unable  to  get  up  here  and  see  this.  It  would 
have  broken  his  heart.  I'll  have  this  tree  made  into 
fence-posts  and  the  stump  dynamited  and  removed 
this  summer.  After  he  is  operated  on  and  gets  back 
his  sight,  he  will  comeuphere — and  he  must  never  know. 
Perhaps  he  will  have  forgotten  how  many  trees  stood 
in  this  circle.  And  I'll  fill  in  the  hole  left  by  the  stump 
and  plant  some  rnanzanita  there  to  hide  the — 

He  paused.  Peeping  out  from  under  a  chip  among 
the  litter  at  his  feet  was  the  moldy  corner  of  a  white 
envelope.  In  an  instant  Bryce  had  it  in  his  hand. 
The  envelope  was  dirty  and  weatherbeaten,  but  to  a 
certain  extent  the  redwood  chips  under  which  it  had 
lain  hidden  had  served  to  protect  it,  and  the  writing 
on  the  face  was  still  legible.  The  envelope  was  empty 
and  addressed  to  Jules  Rondeau,  care  of  the  Laguna 
Grande  Lumber  Company,  Sequoia,  California. 

Bryce  read  and  reread  that  address.  "Rondeau!" 
he  muttered.  "Jules  Rondeau!  I've  heard  that  name 
before — ah,  yes!  Dad  spoke  of  him  last  night.  He's 
Pennington's  woods-boss " 

He  paused.  An  enemy  had  done  this  thing — and  in 
all  the  world  John  Cardigan  had  but  one  enemy — 
Colonel  Seth  Pennington.  Had  Pennington  sent  his 
woods-boss  to  do  this  dirty  work  out  of  sheer  spite? 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS  9? 

Hardly.  The  section  of  burl  was  gone,  and  this 
argued  that  the  question  of  spite  had  been  purely  a 
matter  of  secondary  consideration. 

Evidently,  Bryce  reasoned,  someone  had  desired 
that  burl  redwood  greatly,  and  that  someone  had  not 
been  Jules  Rondeau,  since  a  woods-boss  would  not  be 
likely  to  spend  five  minutes  of  his  leisure  time  in  con 
sideration  of  the  beauties  of  a  burl  table-top  or  panel. 
Hence,  if  Rondeau  had  superintended  the  task  of  felling 
the  tree,  it  must  have  been  at  the  behest  of  a  superior; 
and  since  a  woods-boss  acknowledges  no  superior  save 
the  creator  of  the  pay-roll,  the  recipient  of  that  stolen 
burl  must  have  been  Colonel  Pennington. 

Suddenly  he  thrilled.  If  Jules  Rondeau  had  stolen 
that  burl  to  present  it  to  Colonel  Pennington,  his 
employer,  then  the  finished  article  must  be  in  Penning- 
ton's  home!  And  Bryce  had  been  invited  to  that  home 
for  dinner  the  following  Thursday  by  the  Colonel's 
niece. 

"I'll  go,  after  all,"  he  told  himself.  "I'll  go— and 
I'll  see  what  I  shall  see." 

He  was  too  wrought  up  now  to  sit  calmly  down  in  the 
peace  and  quietude  of  the  giants,  and  digest  the*  annual 
reports  Sinclair  had  given  him.  He  hastened  back  to 
the  mill-office  and  sought  Sinclair. 

"At  what  hour  does  the  logging-train  leave  the 
Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company's  yard  for  our  log- 
landing  in  Township  Nine?"  he  demanded. 

"Eight  A.  M.  and  one  p.  M.  daily,  Bryce." 

"Have  you  any  maps  of  the  holdings  of  PeiuiingtoE. 
and  ourselves  in  that  district?  " 

"Yes  " 


98  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Let  me  have  them,  please.  I  know  the  topography 
of  that  district  perfectly,  but  I  am  not  familiar  with  the 
holdings  in  and  around  ours." 

Sinclair  gave  him  the  maps,  and  Bryce  retired  to  his 
father's  private  office  and  gave  himself  up  to  a  study  of 
them. 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHEN  Shirley  Sumner  descended  to  the  break 
fast  room  on  the  morning  following  her  arrival 
in  Sequoia,  the  first  glance  at  her  uncle's 
stately  countenance  informed  her  that  during  the  night 
something  had  occurred  to  irritate  Colonel  Seth 
Pennington  and  startle  him  out  of  his  customary  bland 
composure.  He  greeted  her  politely  but  coldly,  and  with 
out  even  the  perfunctory  formality  of  inquiring  how  she 
had  passed  the  night,  he  came  directly  to  the  issue. 

"Shirley,"  he  began,  "did  I  hear  you  calling  young 
Cardigan  on  the  telephone  after  dinner  last  night  or  did 
my  ears  deceive  me?  " 

"Your  ears  are  all  right,  Uncle  Seth.  I  called  Mr. 
Cardigan  up  to  thank  him  for  the  pie  he  sent  over,  and 
incidentally  to  invite  him  over  here  to  dinner  on  Thurs 
day  night." 

"I  thought  I  heard  you  aski.r^  somebody  to  dinner, 
and  as  you  don't  know  a  soul  in  Sequoia  except  young 
Cardigan,  naturally  I  opined  that  he  was  to  be  the 
object  of  our  hospitality." 

The  Colonel  coughed  sKghtly.  From  the  manner  in 
which  he  approached  the  task  of  buttering  his  hot 
cakes  Shirley  knew  he  had  something  more  to  say 
and  was  merely  formulating  a  polite  set  of  phrases  in 
which  to  express  himself.  She  resolved  to  help  him 
along. 

99 


100         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"I  dare  say  it's  quite  all  right  to  have  invited  him. 
isn't  it,  Uncle  Seth?" 

"Certainly,  certainly,  my  dear.  Quite  all  right,  but, 
er — ah,  slightly  inconvenient." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry.  If  I  had  known Perhaps  some 

other  night 

"I  am  expecting  other  company  Thursday  night— 
unfortunately,  Brayton,  the  president  of  the  Bank  of 
Sequoia,  is  coming  up  to  dine  and  discuss  some  business 
affairs  with  me  afterward;  so  if  you  don't  mind,  my 
dear,  suppose  you  call  young  Cardigan  up  and  ask  him 
to  defer  his  visit  until  some  later  date." 

"Certainly,  Uncle.  There  is  no  particular  reason 
why  I  should  have  Mr.  Cardigan  on  Thursday  if  his 
presence  would  mean  the  slightest  interference  with 
your  plans.  What  perfectly  marvellous  roses!  How 
did  you  succeed  in  growing  them,  Uncle  Seth?" 

He  smiled  sourly.  "I  didn't  raise  them,"  he  replied. 
"That  half-breed  Indian  that  drives  John  Cardigan's 
car  brought  them  around  about  an  hour  ago,  along  with 
a  card.  There  it  is,  beside  your  plate." 

She  blushed  ever  so  slightly.  "I  suppose  Bryce 
Cardigan  is  vindicating  himself,"  she  murmured  as 
she  withdrew  the  card  from  the  envelope.  As  she  had 
surmised,  it  was  Bryce  Cardigan's.  Colonel  Pennington 
was  the  proprietor  of  a  similar  surmise. 

"Fast  work,  Shirley,"  he  murmured  banteringly. 
"I  wonder  what  he'll  send  you  for  luncheon.  Some 
dill  pickles,  probably." 

She  pretended  to  be  very  busy  with  the  roses,  and 
not  to  have  heard  him.  Her  uncle's  sneer  was  not 
lost  on  her,  however;  she  resented  it  but  chose  to  ignore 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         101 

it  for  the  present;  and  when  at  length  she  had  finished 
arranging  the  flowers,  she  changed  the  conversation 
adroitly  by  questioning  her  relative  anent  the  oppor 
tunities  for  shopping  in  Sequoia.  The  Colonel,  who 
could  assimilate  a  hint  quicker  than  most  ordinary 
mortals,  saw  that  he  had  annoyed  her,  and  he  promptly 
hastened  to  make  amends  by  permitting  himself  to  be 
led  readily  into  this  new  conversational  channel.  As 
soon  as  he  could  do  so,  however,  he  excused  himself 
on  the  plea  of  urgent  business  at  the  office,  and  left  the 
room. 

Shirley,  left  alone  at  the  breakfast-table,  picked  idly 
at  the  preserved  figs  the  owlish  butler  set  before  her. 
Vaguely  she  wondered  at  her  uncle's  apparent  hostility 
to  the  Cardigans;  she  was  as  vaguely  troubled  in  the 
knowledge  that  until  she  should  succeed  in  eradicating 
this  hostility,  it  must  inevitably  act  as  a  bar  to  the 
further  progress  of  her  friendship  with  Bryce  Cardigan » 
And  she  told  herself  she  did  not  want  to  lose  that 
friendship.  She  wasn't  the  least  bit  in  love  with  him 
albeit  she  realized  he  was  rather  lovable.  The  delight 
which  she  had  experienced  in  his  society  lay  in  the  fact 
that  he  was  absolutely  different  from  any  other  man 
she  had  met.  His  simplicity,  his  utter  lack  of  "  swank," 
his  directness,  his  good  nature,  and  dry  sense  of  humour 
made  him  shine  luminously  in  comparison  with  the 
worldly,  rather  artificial  young  men  she  had  previously 
met — young  men  who  said  and  did  only  those  things 
which  time,  tradition,  and  hallowed  memory  assured 
them  were  done  by  the  right  sort  of  people.  Shirley  had 
a  suspicion  that  Bryce  Cardigan  could — and  would — 
swear  like  a  pirate  should  his  temper  be  aroused  and 


.  1Q<?       5<THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

the  circumstances  appear  to  warrant  letting  off  steam. 
Also  she  liked  him  because  he  was  imaginative — because 
he  saw  and  sensed  and  properly  understood  without  a 
diagram  or  a  blueprint.  And  lastly,  he  was  a  good, 
devoted  son  and  was  susceptible  of  development 
into  a  congenial  and  wholly  acceptable  comrade  to  a 
young  lady  absolutely  lacking  in  other  means  of  amuse 
ment. 

She  finished  her  breakfast  in  thoughtful  silence;  then 
she  went  to  the  telephone  and  called  up  Bryce  at  his 
home.  Mrs.  Tully,  all  aflutter  with  curiosity,  was 
quite  insistent  that  Shirley  should  leave  her  name  and 
telephone  number,  but  failing  to  carry  her  point,  con- 
sented  to  inform  the  latter  that  Mr.  Bryce  was  at  the 
office.  She  gave  Shirley  the  telephone  number. 

When  the  girl  called  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber 
Company,  Bryce  answered.  He  recognized  her  voice 
instantly  and  called  her  name  before  she  had  oppor 
tunity  to  announce  her  identity. 

"Thank  you  so  much  for  the  beautiful  roses,  Mr. 
Cardigan,"  she  began. 

"I'm  glad  you  liked  them.  Nobody  picks  flowers 
out  of  our  garden,  you  know.  I  used  to,  but  I'll  be  too 
busy  hereafter  to  bother  with  the  garden." 

"Very  well.  Then  I  am  not  to  expect  any  more 
roses?" 

"  I'm  a  stupid  clodhopper.  Of  course  you  may.  By 
the  way,  Miss  Sumner,  does  your  uncle  own  a  car?  " 

"I  believe  he  does — a  little  old  rattletrap  which  he 
drives  himself." 

"Then  I'll  send  George  over  with  the  Napier  this 
afternoon.  You  might  care  to  take  a  spin  out  into  the 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         103 

surrounding  country.  By  the  way,  Miss  Sumner,  you 
are  to  consider  George  and  that  car  as  your  personal 
property.  I  fear  you're  going  to  find  Sequoia  a  dull 
place;  so  whenever  you  wish  to  go  for  a  ride,  just  call 
me  up,  and  I'll  have  George  report  to  you." 

"But  think  of  all  the  expensive  gasoline  and  tires!" 

"Oh,  but  you  mustn't  look  at  things  from  that  angle 
after  you  cross  the  Rocky  Mountains  on  your  way 
v/est.  Moreover,  mine  is  the  only  real  car  in  the 
country,  and  I  know  you  like  it.  What  are  you  going 
vO  do  this  afternoon?" 

"I  don't  know.     I  haven't  thought  that  far  ahead." 

"For  some  real  sport  I  would  suggest  that  you  motor 
up  to  Laguna  Grande.  That's  Spanish  for  Big  Lagoon, 
you  know.  Take  a  rod  with  you.  There  are  some 
land-locked  salmon  in  the  lagoon — that  is,  there  used 
to  be;  and  if  you  hook  one  you'll  get  a  thrill." 

"But  I  have  any  rod." 

"I'll  send  you  over  a  good  one." 

"But  I  have  nobody  to  teach  me  how  to  use  it," 
she  hinted  daringly. 

"I  appreciate  that  compliment,"  he  flashed  back  at 
her,  "but  unfortunately  my  holidays  are  over  for  a 
long,  long  time.  I  took  my  father's  place  in  the  busi 
ness  this  morning." 

"So  soon?" 

"Yes.  Things  have  been  happening  while  I  was 
away.  However,  speaking  of  fishing,  George  Sea  Otter 
will  prove  an  invaluable  instructor.  He  is  a  good  boy 
and  you  may  trust  him  implicitly.  On  Thursday 
evening  you  can  tell  me  what  success  you  had  with  the 
salmon*" 


104         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Oh,  that  reminds  me,  Mr.  Cardigan.  You  can't 
come  Thursday  evening,  after  all."  And  she  explained 
the  reason. 

"By  Jove,"  he  replied,  "I'm  mighty  glad  you  tipped 
me  off  about  that.  I  couldn't  possibly  remain  at  ease 
in  the  presence  of  a  banker — particularly  one  who  wiU 
not  lend  me  money." 

"Suppose  you  come  Wednesday  night  instead." 

"We'll  call  that  a  bet.     Thank  you." 

She  chuckled  at  his  frank  good  humour.  "Thank 
you,  Mr  Cardigan,  for  all  your  kindness  and  thought- 
fulness;  and  if  you  will  persist  in  being  nice  to  me,  you 
might  send  George  Sea  Otter  and  the  car  at  one-thirty. 
I'll  be  glad  to  avail  myself  of  both  until  I  can  get  a  car 
of  my  own  sent  up  from  San  Francisco,  Till  Wednes 
day  night,  then.  Good-bye." 

As  Bryce  Cardigan  hung  up,  he  heaved  a  slight  sigh,, 
and  a  parody  on  a  quatrain  from  "Lalla  Rookh"  ran 
through  his  mind. : 

I  never  loved  a  dear  gazelle, 

To  glad  me  with,  its  limpid  eye, 
But  when  I  learned  to  love  it  well, 

The  gol-darned  thing  was  sure  to  die! 

It  was  difficult  to  get  out  of  the  habit  of  playing;  he 
found  himself  the  possessor  of  a  very  great  desire  to 
close  down  the  desk,  call  on  Shirley  Sumner,  and  spend 
the  remainder  of  the  day  basking  in  the  sunlight  of  her 
presence. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  days  passed  swiftly,  as  they  nave  a  habit  of 
passing  after  one  has  discovered  one's  allotted 
task  in  life  and  has  proceeded  to  perform  it< 
Following  his  discovery  of  the  outrage  committed  on 
his  father's  sanctuary,  Bryce  wasted  considerable  val 
uable  time  and  effort  in  a  futile  endeavour  to  gather 
some  further  hint  of  the  identity  of  the  vandals;  but 
despairing  at  last,  he  dismissed  the  matter  from  his 
mind,  resolving  only  that  on  Thursday  he  would  go  up 
into  Pennington's  woods  and  interview  the  redoubtable 
Jules  Rondeau.  Bryce's  natural  inclination  was  to 
wait  upon  M.  Rondeau  immediately,  if  not  scorer,  but 
the  recollection  of  his  dinner  engagement  at  the  Pen- 
nington  home  warned  him  to  proceed  cautiously;  for 
while  harbouring  no  apprehensions  as  to  the  outcome 
of  a  possible  clash  with  Rondeau,  Bi-yce  was  not  so 
optimistic  as  to  believe  he  would  escape  unscathed  from 
an  encounter.  Experience  had  impressed  upon  him  the 
fact  that  in  a  rough-and-tumble  battle  nobody  is  quite 
so  thoroughly  at  home  as  a  lumberjack;  once  in  a  clinch 
with  such  a  man,  even  a  champion  gladiator  of  the  prize 
ring  may  well  feel  apprehensive  of  the  outcome. 

Wednesday  evening  at  five  o'clock  Mr.  Sinclair,  the 
manager,  came  into  Bryce's  office  with  a  handful  of 
folded  pauers.  "I  have  here,"  he  announced  in  his 
voice  with  a  touch  of  solemnity  to  it,  "a  trial 

105 


106         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

balance.  I  have  not  had  time  to  make  an  exact  in* 
ventory;  but  in  order  to  give  you  some  idea  of  the  con 
dition  of  your  father's  affairs,  I  have  used  approximate 
figures  and  prepared  a  profit-and-loss  account." 

Bryce  reached  for  the  papers. 

"You  will  note  the  amount  charged  off  to  profit  and 
loss  under  the  head  of  'Pensions,'  "  Sinclair  continued. 
"It  amounts  approximately  to  two  thousand  dollars 
a  month,  and  this  sum  represents  payments  to  crippled 
employees  and  the  dependent  families  of  men  killed  in 
the  employ  of  the  Company. 

"In  addition  to  these  payments,  your  father  owns 
thirty-two  thirty-acre  farms  which  he  has  cleared  from 
his  logged-over  lands.  These  little  farms  are  equipped 
with  bungalows  and  outbuildings  built  by  your  father 
and  represent  a  considerable  investment.  As  you 
know,  these  farms  are  wonderfully  rich,  and  are 
planted  in  apples  and  berries.  Other  lands  contiguous 
to  them  sell  readily  at  two  hundred  dollars  an  'acre,  and 
so  you  will  see  that  your  father  has  approximately  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars  tied  up  in  these  little  farms." 

"But  he  has  given  a  life-lease  at  nothing  a  year  for 
each  farm  to  former  employees  who  have  been  smashed 
beyond  the  possibility  of  doing  the  hard  work  of  the 
mill  and  woods,"  Bryce  reminded  the  manager.  "  Hence 
you  must  not  figure  those  farms  among  our  assets." 

"Why  not?"  Sinclair  replied  evenly.  "Formal 
leases  have  never  been  executed,  and  the  tenants 
occupy  the  property  at  your  father's  pleasure." 

"I  think  that  will  be  about  as  far  as  the  discussion 
on  that  point  need  proceed,"  Bryce  replied  smilingly. 
"  My  father's  word  has  always  been  considered  sufficient 


THE  VALLEY  OP  THE  GIANTS         107 

in  this  country;  his  verbal  promise  to  pay  has  always 
been  collateral  enough  for  those  who  know  him." 

"But  my  dear  boy,"  Sinclair  protested,  "while  that 
sort  of  philanthropy  is  very  delightful  when  one  can 
afford  the  luxury,  it  is  scarcely  practical  when  one  is 
teetering  on  the  verge  of  financial  ruin.  After  all, 
Bryce,  self-preservation  is  the  first  law  of  human  nature, 
and  the  sale  of  those  farms  would  go  a  long  way  toward 
helping  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company  out 
of  the  hole  it  is  in  at  present." 

"And  we're  really  teetering  on  the  edge  of  financial 
ruin,  eh?"  Bryce  queried  calmly. 

"That  is  expressing  your  condition  mildly.  The 
semi-annual  payment  of  interest  on  the  bonded  in 
debtedness  falls  due  on  July  first — and  we're  going  to 
default  on  it,  sure  as  death  and  taxes.  Colonel  Pen- 
nington  holds  a  majority  of  our  bonds,  and  that  means 
prompt  suit  for  foreclosure." 

"Well,  then,  Sinclair,"  Bryce  retorted,  carefully 
pigeon-holing  the  documents  the  manager  had  handed 
him,  "I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do.  For  fifty  years  my 
father  has  played  the  game  in  this  community  like  a 
sport  and  a  gentleman,  and  I'll  be  damned  if  his  son 
will  dog  it  now,  at  the  finish.  I  gather  from  your  re 
marks  that  we  could  find  ready  sale  for  those  thirty -two 
little  farms?" 

"I  am  continually  receiving  offers  for  them." 

"  Then  they  were  not  included  in  the  list  of  properties 
covered  by  our  bonded  indebtedness?" 

"No,  your  father  refused  to  include  them.  He  said 
he  would  take  a  chance  on  the  financial  future  of  him 
self  and  his  bov,  but  not  on  his  helpless  dependents." 


108         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Good  old  John  Cardigan!  Well,  Sinclair,  I'll  not 
take  a  chance  on  them  either;  so  to-morrow  morning 
you  will  instruct  our  attorney  to  draw  up  formal  life- 
leases  on  those  farms,  and  to  make  certain  they  are 
absolutely  unassailable.  Colonel  Pennington  may 
have  the  lands  sold  to  satisfy  a  deficiency  judgment 
against  us,  but  while  those  life-leases  from  the  former 
owner  are  in  force,  my  father's  proteges  cannot  be  dis 
possessed.  After  they  are  dead,  of  course,  Pennington 
may  take  the  farms — and  be  damned  to  him." 

Sinclair  stared  in  frank  amazement  at  his  youthful 
superior.  "You  are  throwing  away  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars,"  he  said  distinctly. 

"I  haven't  thrown  it  away — yet.  You  forget, 
Sinclair,  that  we're  going  to  fight  first — and  fight  like 
fiends;  then  if  we  lose — well,  the  tail  goes  with  the  hide. 
By  the  way,  Sinclair,  are  any  of  those  farms  untenanted 
at  the  present  time?  " 

"Yes.  Old  Bill  Tarpey,  who  lost  his  three  boys  in  a 
forest  fire  over  on  the  San  Hedrin,  passed  out  last  week. 
The  Tarpey  boys  died  in  the  Cardigan  employ,  and  so 
your  father  gave  Bill  the  use  of  a  farm  out  near  Fresh* 
water." 

"Well,  you'd  better  be  his  successor,  Sinclair. 
You're  no  longer  a  young  man,  and  you've  been  thirty 
years  in  this  office.  Play  safe,  Sinclair,  and  include 
yourself  in  one  of  those  life-leases." 

"My  dear  boy " 

"Nonsense!  United  we  stand,  divided  we  fall, 
Sinclair;  and  let  there  be  no  moaning  of  the  bar  when 
a  Cardigan  puts  out  to  sea." 

Smiling,  he  rose  from  his  desk,  patted  the  bewildered 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         109 

Sinclair  on  the  latter's  grizzled  head,  and  then  reached 
for  his  hat.  'Tin  dining  out  to-night,  Sinclair,  and  I 
wouldn't  be  a  kill-joy  at  the  feast,  for  a  ripe  peach. 
Your  confounded  figures  might  make  me  gloomy; 
so  we'll  just  reserve  discussion  of  them  till  to-morrow 
morning.  Be  a  sport,  Sinclair,  and  for  once  in  your 
life  beat  the  six  o'clock  whistle.  In  other  words,  I 
suggest  that  you  go  home  and  rest  for  once." 
He  left  Sinclair  staring  at  him  rather  stupidly. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

COLONEL     PENNINGTON'S     pompous     im« 
ported  British  butler  showed  Bryce  into  the 
Pennington  living  room  at  six-thirty,  announc 
ing  him  with  due  ceremony.     Shirley  rose  from  the 
piano  where  she  had  been  idly  fingering  the  keys  and 
greeted  him  with  every  appearance  of  pleasure — follow 
ing  which,  she  turned  to  present  her  visitor  to  Colonel 
Pennington,  who  was  standing  in  his  favourite  position 
with  his  back  to  the  fireplace. 

"Uncle  Seth,  this  is  Mr.  Cardigan,  who  was  so  very 
nice  to  me  the  day  I  landed  in  Red  Bluff." 

The  Colonel  bowed.  "I  have  to  thank  you,  sir,  for 
your  courtesy  to  my  niece."  He  had  assumed  an  ail 
of  reserve,  of  distinct  aloofness,  despite  his  studied 
politeness.  Bryce  stepped  forward  with  extended 
hand,  which  the  Colonel  grasped  in  a  manner  vaguely 
suggestive  of  that  clammy-palmed  creation  of  Charles 
Dickens — Uriah  Heep.  Bryce  was  tempted  to  squeeze 
the  lax  fingers  until  the  Colonel  should  bellow  with  pain; 
but  resisting  the  ungenerous  impulse,  he  replied  instead? 

"Your  niece,  Colonel,  is  one  of  those  fortunate 
beings  the  world  will  always  clamour  to  serve." 

"Quite  true,  Mr.  Cardigan.  When  she  was  quite  a 
little  girl  I  came  under  her  spell  myself." 

"So  did  I,  Colonel.  Miss  Sumner  has  doubtless 
told  you  of  our  first  meeting  some  twelve  years  ago." 

ue 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         111 

"Quite  so.  May  I  offer  you  a  cocktail,  Mr.  Car 
digan?" 

"Thank  you,  certainly.  Dad  and  I  have  been 
pinning  one  on  about  this  time  every  night  since  my 
return." 

"Shirley  belongs  to  the  Band  of  Hope,"  the  Colonel 
explained.  "She's  ready  at  any  time  to  break  a  lance 
with  the  Demon  Rum.  Back  in  Michigan,  where  we 
used  to  live,  she  saw  too  many  woodsmen  around  after 
the  spring  drive.  So  we'll  have  to  drink  her  share, 
Mr.  Cardigan.  Pray  be  seated." 

Bryce  seated  himself.  "Well,  we  lumbermen  are  a 
low  lot  and  naturally  fond  of  dissipation,"  he  agreed. 
,"I  fear  Miss  Sumner's  Prohibition  tendencies  will  be  still 
further  strengthened  after  she  has  seen  the  mad-train." 

"What  is  that?"  Shirley  queried. 

"The  mad-train  runs  over  your  uncle's  logging 
railroad  up  into  Township  Nine,  where  his  timber  and 
ours  is  located.  It  is  the  only  train  operated  on  Sunday, 
and  it  leaves  Sequoia  at  five  P.  M.  to  carry  the  Penning- 
ton  and  Cardigan  crews  back  to  the  woods  after  their 
Saturday-night  celebration  in  town.  As  a  usual  thing, 
all  hands,  with  the  exception  of  the  brakeman,  engineers, 
and  fireman,  are  singing,  weeping  or  fighting  drunk." 

"But  why  do  you  provide  transportation  for  them 
to  conic-  to  town  Saturday  nights?  "  Shirley  protested. 

"They  ride  in  on  the  last  trainload  of  logs,  and  if  we 
didn't  let  them  do  it,  they'd  ask  for  their  time.  It's 
the  way  of  the  gentle  lumberjack.  And  of  course, 
once  they  get  in,  we  have  to  round  them  up  on  Sunday 
afternoon  and  get  them  back  on  the  job.  Hence  the 
mad -train." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Do  they  fight,  Mr.  Cardigan?" 

"Frequently.  I  might  say  usually.  It's  quite  an 
inspiring  sight  to  see  a  couple  of  lumberjacks  going  to  it 
on  a  flat-car  travelling  thirty  miles  an  hour." 

"But  aren't  they  liable  to  fall  off  and  get  killed?" 

"No.  You  see,  they're  used  to  fighting  that  way. 
Moreover,  the  engineer  looks  back,  and  if  he  sees  any 
signs  of  Donnybrook  Fair,  he  slows  down." 

"How  horrible'" 

"Yes,  indeed.  The  right  of  way  is  lined  with  empty 
whiskey  bottles." 

Colonel  Pennington  spoke  up.  "We  don't  have  any 
fighting  on  the  mad-train  any  more,"  he  said  blandly. 

"Indeed!     How  do  you  prevent  it?"  Bryce  asked. 

"My  woods-boss,  Jules  Rondeau,  makes  them  keep 
the  peace,"  Pennington  replied  with  a  small  smile. 
"If  there's  any  fighting  to  be  done,  he  does  it." 

"You  mean  among  his  own  crew,  of  course,"  Bryce 
suggested. 

"No,  he's  in  charge  of  the  mad-train,  and  whether  a 
fight  starts  among  your  men  or  ours,  he  takes  a  hand. 
He's  had  them  all  behaving  mildly  for  quite  a  while, 
because  he  can  whip  any  man  in  the  country,  and 
everybody  realizes  it.  I  don't  know  what  I'd  do  with 
out  Rondeau.  He  certainly  makes  those  bohunks  of 
mine  step  lively." 

" Oh-h-h !     Do  you  employ  bohunks,  Colonel?  " 

"Certainly.  They  cost  less;  they  are  far  less  inde 
pendent  than  most  men  and  more  readily  handled. 
And  you  don't  have  to  pamper  them — particularly  in 
the  matter  of  food.  Why,  Mr  Cardigan,  with  all  due 
respect  to  your  father,  the  way  he  feeds  his  men  is 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         113 

simply  ridiculous!  Cake  and  pie  and  doughnuts  at 
the  same  meal!"  The  Colonel  snorted  virtuously. 

"Well,  Dad  started  in  to  feed  his  men  the  same  food 
he  fed  himself,  and  I  suppose  the  habits  one  forms  in 
youth  are  not  readily  changed  in  old  age,  Colonel." 

"But  that  makes  it  hard  for  other  manufacturers,"  the 
Colonel  protested.  "I  feed  my  men  good  plain  food 
and  plenty  of  it — quite  better  food  than  they  were  used 
to  before  they  came  to  this  country;  but  I  cannot  seem 
to  satisfy  them.  I  am  continuously  being  reminded, 
when  I  do  a  thing  thus  and  so,  that  John  Cardigan  does 
it  otherwise.  Your  respected  parent  is  the  basis  for 
comparison  in  this  country,  Cardigan,  and  I  find  it 
devilish  inconvenient."  He  laughed  indulgently  and 
passed  his  cigarette-case  to  Bryce. 

"Uncle  Seth  always  grows  restless  when  some  other 
man  is  the  leader,"  Shirley  volunteered  with  a  mis 
chievous  glance  at  Pennington.  "He  was  the  Great 
Pooh-Bah  of  the  lumber-trade  back  in  Michigan,  but 
out  here  he  has  to  play  second  fiddle.  Don't  you, 
Nunky-dunk?  " 

"I'm  afraid  I  do,  my  dear,"  the  Colonel  admitted 
with  his  best  air  of  hearty  expansiveness.  "I'm  afraid 
I  do.  However,  Mr.  Cardigan,  now  that  you  have — at 
least,  I  have  been  so  informed — taken  over  your 
father's  business,  I  am  hoping  we  will  be  enabled  to 
get  together  on  many  little  details  and  work  them  out 
on  a  common  basis  to  our  mutual  advantage.  We 
lumbermen  should  stand  together  and  not  make  it 
hard  for  each  other.  For  instance,  your  scale  of  wages  is 
totally  disproportionate  to  the  present  high  cost  of  manu 
facture  and  the  mediocre  market;  yet  just  because  you 


Ill         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

pay  it,  you  set  a  precedent  which  we  are  all  forced  to 
follow.  However,"  he  concluded,  "let's  not  talk  shop. 
I  imagine  we  have  enough  of  that  during  the  dayfc 
Besides,  here  are  the  cocktails." 

With  the  disposal  of  the  cocktails,  the  conversation 
drifted  into  a  discussion  of  Shirley's  adventures  with 
a  salmon  in  Big  Lagoon.  The  Colonel  discoursed 
learnedly  on  the  superior  sport  of  muskellunge-fishing, 
which  prompted  Bryce  to  enter  into  a  description  of 
going  after  swordfish  among  the  islands  of  the  Santa 
Barbara  channel.  "Trout-fishing  when  the  fish  gets 
into  white  water  is  good  sport;  salmon-fishing  is  fine, 
and  the  steel-head  in  Eel  River  are  hard  to  beat; 
muskellunge  are  a  delight,  and  tarpon  are  not  so  bad 
if  you're  looking  for  thrills;  but  for  genuine  inspiration 
give  me  a  sixteen-foot  swordfish  that  will  leap  out  of 
the  water  from  three  to  six  feet,  and  do  it  three  or  four 
hundred  times — all  on  a  line  and  rod  so  light  one  dares 
not  state  the  exact  weight  if  he  values  his  reputation 
for  veracity.  Once  I  was  fishing  at  San " 

The  butler  appeared  in  the  doorway  and  bowed  to 
Shirley,  at  the  time  announcing  that  dinner  was  served. 
The  girl  rose  and  gave  her  arm  to  Bryce;  with  her  other 
arm  linked  through  her  uncle's  she  turned  toward  the 
dining  room. 

Just  inside  the  entrance  Bryce  paused.  The  soft 
glow  of  the  candles  in  the  old-fasMcned  silver  candle 
sticks  upon  the  table  was  reflected  in  the  polished  walls 
of  the  room — T vails  formed  of  panels  of  the  most  ex 
quisitely  patterned  redwood  burl  Bryce  Cardigan  had 
ever  seen.  Also  the  panels  were  unusually  large. 

Shirley  Sumner's  alert  glance  followed  Bryce's  as  it 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         115 

swept  around  the  room.  "This  dining  room  is  Uncle 
Seth's  particular  delight,  Mr.  Cardigan,"  she  explained. 

"It  is  very  beautiful,  Miss  Sumner.  And  your 
uncle  has  worked  wonders  in  the  matter  of  having  it 
polished.  Those  panels  are  positively  the  largest  and 
most  beautiful  specimens  of  redwood  burl  ever  turned 
out  in  this  country.  The  grain  is  not  merely  wavy;  it 
is  not  merely  curly;  it  is  actually  so  contrary  that  you 
have  here,  Colonel  Pennington,  a  room  absolutely 
unique,  in  that  it  is  formed  of  bird's-eye  burl.  Mark 
the  deep  shadows  in  it.  And  how  it  does  reflect  those 
candles!" 

"It  is  beautiful,"  the  Colonel  declared.  "And  I 
must  confess  to  a  pardonable  pride  in  it,  although  the 
task  of  keeping  these  walls  from  being  marred  by  the 
furniture  knocking  against  them  requires  the  utmost 


care." 


Bryce  turned  and  his  brown  eyes  blazed  into  the 
Colonel's.  "Where  did  you  succeed  in  finding  such 
a  marvellous  tree?"  he  queried  pointedly.  "I  know 
of  but  one  tree  in  Humboldt  County  that  could  have 
produced  such  beautiful  burl." 

For  about  a  second  Colonel  Pennington  met  Bryce's 
glance  unwaveringly;  then  he  read  something  in  his 
guest's  eyes,  and  his  glance  shifted,  while  over  his 
benign  countenance  a  flush  spread  quickly.  Bryce 
noted  it,  and  his  quickly  roused  suspicions  were  as 
quickly  kindled  into  certainty.  "Where  did  you  find 
that  tree?"  he  repeated  innocently. 

"Rondeau,  my  woods-boss,  knew  I  was  on  the  look 
out  for  something  special — something  nobody  else 
could  get;  so  he  kept  his  eyes  onen." 


116         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Indeed!"  There  was  just  a  trace  of  irony  in 
Bryce's  tones  as  he  drew  Shirley's  chair  and  held  it  for 
her.  "As  you  say,  Colonel,  it  is  difficult  to  keep  such 
soft  wood  from  being  marred  by  contact  with  the  fur 
niture.  And  you  are  fortunate  to  have  such  a  woods- 
boss  in  your  employ.  Such  loyal  fellows  are  usually 
too  good  to  be  true,  and  quite  frequently  they  put  their 
blankets  on  their  backs  and  get  out  of  the  country  when 
you  least  expect  it.  I  dare  say  it  would  be  a  shock  to 
you  if  Rondeau  did  that." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  veiled  threat  behind  that 
apparently  innocent  observation,  and  the  Colonel, 
being  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  astuteness,  realized 
that  at  last  he  must  place  his  cards  on  the  table.  His 
glance,  as  he  rested  it  on  Bryce  now,  was  baleful, 
ophidian.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "I  would  be  rather  dis~ 
appointed.  However,  I  pay  Rondeau  rather  more 
than  it  is  customary  to  pay  woods-bosses;  so  I  imagine 
he'll  stay — unless,  of  course,  somebody  takes  a  notion 
to  run  him  out  of  the  county.  And  when  that  happens, 
I  want  to  be  on  hand  to  view  the  spectacle." 

Bryce  sprinkled  a  modicum  of  salt  in  his  soup.  "I'm 
going  up  into  Township  Nine  to-morrow  afternoon," 
he  remarked  casually.  "I  think  I  shall  go  over  to  your 
camp  and  pay  the  incomparable  Jules  a  brief  visit. 
Really,  I  have  heard  so  much  about  that  woods-boss 
of  yours,  Colonel,  that  I  ache  to  take  him  apart  and 
see  what  makes  him  go." 

Again  the  Colonel  assimilated  the  hint,  but  preferred 
to  dissemble.  "Oh,  you  can't  steal  him  from  me,  Car 
digan,"  he  laughed.  "I  warn  you  in  advance— so 
spare  yourself  the  effort" 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GL\NTS         117 

"I'll  try  anything  once,"  Bryce  retorted  with 
equal  good  nature.  "However,  I  don't  want  to 
steal  him  from  you.  I  want  to  ascertain  from  him 
where  he  procured  this  burl.  There  may  be  more 
of  the  same  in  the  neighbourhood  where  he  got 
this." 

"He  wouldn't  tell  you." 

"He  might.  I'm  a  persuasive  little  cuss  when  I 
choose  to  exert  myself." 

"Rondeau  is  not  communicative.  He  requires  lots 
of  persuading." 

"What  delicious  soup!"  Bryce  murmured  blandly. 
"Miss  Sumner,  may  I  have  a  cracker?  " 

The  dinner  passed  pleasantly;  the  challenge  and 
defiance  between  guest  and  host  had  been  so  skillfully 
and  gracefully  exchanged  that  Shirley  hadn't  the 
slightest  suspicion  that  these  two  well-groomed  men 
had,  under  her  very  nose,  as  it  were,  agreed  to  be 
enemies  and  then,  for  the  time  being,  turned  their 
attention  to  other  and  more  trifling  matters.  Coffee 
was  served  in  the  living  room,  and  through  the  fragrant 
smoke  of  Pennington's  fifty-cent  perfectos  a  sprightly 
three-cornered  conversation  continued  for  an  hour. 
Then  the  Colonel,  secretly  enraged  at  the  calm,  mock 
ing,  contemplative  glances  which  Bryce  ever  and  anon 
bestowed  upon  him,  and  unable  longer  to  convince 
himself  that  he  was  too  apprehensive — that  this  cool 
young  man  knew  nothing  and  would  do  nothing  even 
if  he  knew  something — rose,  pleaded  the  necessity  for 
looking  over  some  papers,  and  bade  Bryce  good-night. 
Foolishly  he  proffered  Bryce  a  limp  hand;  and  a  demon 
of  deviltry  taking  possession  of  the  latter,  this  time  he 


lib         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

squeezed  with  a  simple,  hearty  earnestness,  the  while 
he  said : 

"Colonel  Pennington,  I  hope  I  do  not  have  to  assure 
you  that  my  visit  here  this  evening  has  not  only  been 
delightful  but — er — instructive.  Good-night,  sir,  and 
pleasant  dreams." 

With  difficulty  the  Colonel  suppressed  a  groan. 
However,  he  was  not  the  sort  of  man  who  suffers  in 
silence;  for  a  minute  later  the  butler,  leaning  over  the 
banisters  as  his  master  climbed  the  stairs  to  his  library, 
heard  the  latter  curse  with  an  eloquence  that  was  singu 
larly  appealing. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

COLONEL  SETH  PENNINGTON  looked  up 
sourly  as  a  clerk  entered  his  private  office. 
"Well?"  he  demanded  brusquely.  When  ad 
dressing  his  employees,  the  Colonel  seldom  bothered 
to  assume  his  pontifical  manner. 

"Mr.  Bryce  Cardigan  is  waiting  to  see  you,  sir." 

"Very  well.     Show  him  in." 

Bryce  entered.  "Good  morning,  Colonel,"  he  said 
pleasantly  and  brazenly  thrust  out  his  hand. 

"Not  for  me,  my  boy,"  the  Colonel  assured  him. 
"I  had  enough  of  that  last  night.  We'll  just  consider 
the  hand-shaking  all  attended  to,  if  you  please.  Have 
a  chair;  sit  down  and  tell  me  what  I  can  do  to  make  you 
happy." 

"I'm  delighted  to  find  you  in  such  a  generous  frame 
of  mind,  Colonel.  You  can  make  me  genuinely  happy 
by  renewing,  for  ten  years  on  the  same  terms  as  the 
original  contract,  your  arrangement  to  freight  the 
logs  of  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company  from 
the  woods  to  tidewater." 

Colonel  Pennington  cleared  his  throat  with  a  propitia 
tory  "Ahem-m-m!"  Then  he  removed  his  gold  spec 
tacles  and  carefully  wiped  them  with  a  silk  handker 
chief,  as  carefully  replaced  them  upon  his  aristocratic 
nose,  and  then  gazed  curiously  at  Bryce. 

"Upon  my  soul!"  he  breathed. 


120         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"I  realized,  of  course,  that  this  is  reopening  an  issue 
which  you  have  been  pleased  to  regard  as  having  been 
settled  in  the  last  letter  my  father  had  from  you,  and 
wherein  you  named  terms  that  were  absolutely  pro 
hibitive." 

"My  dear  young  friend!  My  very  dear  young 
friend!  I  must  protest  at  being  asked  to  discuss  this 
matter.  Your  father  and  I  have  been  over  it  in  de 
tail;  we  failed  to  agree,  and  that  settles  it.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  I  am  not  in  position  to  handle  your 
logs  with  my  limited  rolling-stock,  and  that  old  hauling 
contract  which  I  took  over  when  I  bought  the  mills, 
timber-lands,  and  logging  railroad  from  the  late  Mr. 
Henderson  and  incorporated  into  the  Laguna  Grande 
Lumber  Company,  has  been  an  embarrassment  I  have 
longed  to  rid  myself  of.  Under  those  circumstances 
you  could  scarcely  expect  me  to  saddle  myself  with  it 
again,  at  your  mere  request  and  solely  to  oblige  you." 

"I  did  not  expect  you  to  agree  to  my  request.  I  am 
not  quite  that  optimistic,"  Bryce  replied  evenly. 

"Then  why  did  you  ask  me? " 

"I  thought  that  possibly,  if  I  reopened  negotiations, 
you  might  have  a  reasonable  counter-proposition  to 
suggest." 

"I  haven't  thought  of  any." 

"I  suppose  if  I  agreed  to  sell  you  that  quarter-section 
of  timber  in  the  little  valley  over  yonder"  (he  pointed 
to  the  east)  "and  the  natural  outlet  for  your  Squaw 
Creek  timber,  you'd  quickly  think  of  one,"  Bryce 
suggested  pointedly. 

"No,  I  am  not  in  the  market  for  that  Valley  of  the 
Giants,  as  your  idealistic  father  prefers  to  call  it. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Once  I  would  have  purchased  it  for  double  its  value, 
but  at  present  I  am  not  interested." 

"Nevertheless  it  would  be  an  advantage  for  you  to 
possess  it." 

"My  dear  boy,  the  possession  of  that  big  timber  is 
an  advantage  I  expect  to  enjoy  before  I  acquire  many 
more  gray  hairs.  But  I  do  not  expect  to  pay  for  it." 

"Do  you  expect  me  to  offer  it  to  you  as  a  bonus  for 
renewing  our  hauling  contract?" 

The  Colonel  snapped  his  fingers.  "By  George," 
he  declared,  "that's  a  bright  idea,  and  a  few  months 
ago  I  would  have  been  inclined  to  consider  it  very 
seriously.  But  now " 

"You  figure  you've  got  us  winging,  eh?"  Bryce 
was  smiling  pleasantly. 

"I  am  making  no  admissions,"  Pennington  responded 
enigmatically  " — nor  any  hauling  contracts  for  my 
neighbour's  logs,"  he  added. 

"You  may  change  your  mindo" 

"Never." 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to  abandon  logging  in  Township 
Nine  and  go  back  to  the  San  Hedrin,"  Bryce  sighed 
resignedly. 

"If  you  do,  you'll  go  broke.  You  can't  afford  it. 
You're  on  the  verge  of  insolvency  this  minute." 

"I  suppose,  since  you  decline  to  haul  our  logs,  after 
the  expiration  of  our  present  contract,  and  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  we  are  not  financially  able  to  build  our  own 
logging  railroad,  that  the  wisest  course  my  father  and 
I  could  pursue  would  be  to  sell  our  timber  in  Township 
Nine  to  you.  It  adjoins  your  holdings  in  the  same 
township  " 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"I  had  a  notion  the  situation  would  begin  to  dawn 
upon  you."  The  Colonel  was  smiling  now;  his  hand 
some  face  was  gradually  assuming  the  expression 
pontifical.  "I'll  give  you  a  dollar  a  thousand  feet 
stumpage  for  it." 

"On  whose  cruise? " 

"Oh,  my  own  cruisers  will  estimate  it." 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  accept  that  offer.  We  paid  a 
dollar  and  a  half  for  it,  you  know,  and  if  we  sold  it  to 
you  at  a  dollar,  the  sale  would  not  bring  us  sufficient 
money  to  take  up  our  bonded  indebtedness;  we'd  only 
have  the  San  Hedrin  timber  and  the  Valley  of  the 
Giants  left,  and  since  we  cannot  log  either  of  these  at 
present,  naturally  we'd  be  out  of  business." 

"That's  the  way  I  figured  it,  my  boy." 

"Well — we're  not  going  out  of  business." 

"Pardon  me  for  disagreeing  with  you.     I  think  you 


are." 


"Not  much!     We  can't  afford  it." 

The  Colonel  smiled  benignantly.  "My  dear  boy, 
my  very  dear  young  friend,  listen  to  me.  Your  pa 
ternal  ancestor  is  the  only  human  being  who  has  ever 
succeeded  in  making  a  perfect  monkey  of  me.  When  I 
wanted  to  purchase  from  him  a  right  of  way  through 
his  absurd  Valley  of  the  Giants,  in  order  that  I  might 
log  my  Squaw  Creek  timber,  he  refused  me.  And  to 
add  insult  to  injury,  he  spouted  a  lot  of  ret  about  his 
big  trees,  how  much  they  meant  to  him,  and  the  utter 
artistic  horror  of  running  a  logging-train  through  the 
grove — particularly  since  he  planned  to  bequeath  it 
to  Sequoia  as  a  public  park.  He  expects  the  city  to 
grow  up  to  it  during  the  next  twenty  years. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"My  boy,  that  was  the  first  bad  break  your  father 
made.  His  second  break  was  his  refusal  to  sell  me  a 
mill-site.  He  was  the  first  man  in  this  county,  and  he 
had  been  shrewd  enough  to  hog  all  the  water-front 
real  estate  and  hold  onto  it.  I  remember  he  called 
himser  3,  progressive  citizen,  and  when  I  asked  him 
why  hv  was  so  assiduously  blocking  the  wheels  of  prog 
ress,  he  replied  that  the  railroad  would  build  in  from 
the  south  some  day,  but  that  when  it  did,  its  builders 
would  have  to  be  assured  of  terminal  facilities  on  Hum- 
boldt  Bay.  'By  holding  intact  the  spot  where  rail  and 
water  are  bound  to  meet/  he  told  me,  'I  insure  the  ter 
minal  on  tidewater  which  the  railroad  must  have  be 
fore  consenting  to  build.  But  if  I  sell  it  to  Tom,  Dick, 
and  Harry,  they  will  be  certain  to  gouge  the  railroad 
when  the  latter  tries  to  buy  it  from  them.  They  may 
scare  the  railroad  away.' ' 

"Naturally!"  Bryce  replied.  "The  average  human 
bemg  is  a  hog,  and  merciless  when  he  has  the 
upper  hand.  He  figures  that  a  bird  in  the  hand  is 
worth  two  in  the  bush.  My  father,  on  the  contrary, 
has  always  planned  for  the  future.  He  didn't  want 
that  railroad  blocked  by  land-speculators  and  its  build 
ing  delayed.  The  country  needed  rail  connection 
with  the  outside  world,  and  moreover  his  San  Hedrin 
timber  isn't  worth  a  hoot  until  that  feeder  to  a  trans 
continental  road  shall  be  built  to  tap  it." 

"But  he  sold  Bill  Henderson  the  mill-site  on  tide 
water  that  he  refused  to  sell  me,  and  later  I  had  to  pay 
Henderson's  heirs  a  whooping  price  for  it.  And  I 
haven't  half  the  land  I  need." 

"But  he  needed  Henderson  then.     They  had  a  deal 


124         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

on  together.  You  must  remember,  Colonel,  that 
while  Bill  Henderson  held  that  Squaw  Creek  timber 
he  later  sold  you,  rny  father  would  never  sell  him  a 
mill-site.  Can't  you  see  the  sporting  point  of  view  in 
volved?  My  father  and  Bill  Henderson  were  good- 
natured  rivals;  for  thirty  years  they  had  tried  to  out- 
game  each  other  on  that  Squaw  Creek  timber.  Hen 
derson  thought  he  could  force  my  father  to  buy  at  a 
certain  price,  and  my  father  thought  he  could  force 
Henderson  to  sell  at  a  lesser  price;  they  were  perfectly 
frank  about  it  with  each  other  and  held  no  grudges. 
Of  course,  after  you  bought  Henderson  out,  you 
foolishly  took  over  his  job  of  trying  to  outgame  my 
father.  That's  why  you  bought  Henderson  out,  isn't 
it?  You  had  a  vision  of  my  father's  paying  you  a  nice 
profit  on  your  investment,  but  he  fooled  you,  and  now 
you're  peeved  and  won't  play." 

Bryce  hitched  his  chair  farther  toward  the  Colonel. 
"Why  shouldn't  my  dad  be  nice  to  Bill  Henderson 
after  the  feud  ended?"  he  continued.  "They  could 
play  the  game  together  then,  and  they  did.  Colonel, 
why  can't  you  be  as  sporty  as  Henderson  and  my 
father?  They  fought  each  other,  but  they  fought 
fairly  and  in  the  open,  and  they  never  lost  the  respect 
and  liking  each  had  for  the  other." 

"I  will  not  renew  your  logging  contract.  That  is 
final,  young  man.  No  man  can  ride  me  with  spurs  and 
get  away  with  it." 

"Oh,  I  knew  that  yesterday." 

"Then  why  have  you  called  on  me  to-day,  taking  up 
my  time  on  a  dead  issue?  " 

"I  wanted  to  give  you  one  final  chance  to  repent. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         125 

I  know  your  plan.  You  have  it  in  your  power  to 
smash  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company, 
acquire  it  at  fifty  per  cent,  of  its  value,  and  merge  its 
assets  with  your  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company. 
You  are  an  ambitious  man.  You  want  to  be  the 
greatest  redwood  manufacturer  in  California,  and  in 
order  to  achieve  your  ambitions,  you  are  willing  to 
rum  a  competitor:  you  decline  to  play  the  game  like  a 
thoroughbred." 

"I  play  the  game  of  business  according  to  the  rules 
of  the  game;  I  do  nothing  illegal,  sir." 

"And  nothing  generous  or  chivalrous.  Colonel,  you 
know  your  plea  of  a  shortage  of  rolling-stock  is 
that  the  contract  for  hauling  our  logs  has  been  very 
profitable  and  will  be  more  profitable  in  the  future  if 
you  will  accept  a  fifty-cent-per-thousand  increase  on 
the  freight-rate  and  renew  the  contract  for  ten  years," 

"Nothing  doing,  young  man.  Remember,  you  are 
not  in  a  position  to  ask  favours." 

"Then  I  suppose  we'll  have  to  go  down  fighting?" 

"I  do  not  anticipate  much  of  a  fight." 

"You'll  get  as  much  as  I  can  give  you." 

"I'm  not  at  all  apprehensive." 

"And  I'll  begin  by  running  your  woods-boss  out  of 
the  country." 

"Ah-h!" 

"You  know  why,  of  course — those  burl  panels  in 
your  dining  room.  Rondeau  felled  a  tree  in  our  Valley, 
of  the  Giants  to  get  that  burl  for  you,  Colonel  Penning* 
ton." 

Pennington  flushed.  "I  defy  you  to  prove  that," 
he  almost  shouted. 


126         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Very  well.  I'll  make  Rondeau  confess;  perhaps 
he'll  even  tell  me  who  sent  him  after  the  burl.  Upon 
my  word,  I  think  you  inspired  that  dastardly  raid. 
At  any  rate,  I  know  Rondeau  is  guilty,  and  you,  as  his 
employer  and  the  beneficiary  of  his  crime,  must  accept 
the  odium.1' 

The  Colonel's  face  went  white.  "I  do  not  admit 
anything  except  that  you  appear  to  have  lost  your 
head,  young  man.  However,  for  the  sake  of  argument: 
granting  that  Rondeau  felled  that  tree,  he  did  it  under 
the  apprehension  that  your  Valley  of  the  Giants  is  a 
J>art  of  my  Squaw  Creek  timber  adjoining." 

"I  do  not  believe  that.  There  was  malice  in  the 
act — brutality  even;  for  my  mother's  grave  identified 
the  land  as  ours,  and  Rondeau  felled  the  tree  on  her 
tombstone." 

"If  that  is  so,  and  Rondeau  felled  that  tree — I  do 
not  believe  he  did — I  am  sincerely  sorry,  Cardigan. 
Name  your  price  and  I  will  pay  you  for  the  tree. 
I  do  not  desire  any  trouble  to  develop  over  this 
affair." 

"You  can't  pay  for  that  tree,"  Bryce  burst  forth. 
"No  pitiful  human  being  can  pay  in  dollars  and  cents 
for  the  wanton  destruction  of  God's  handiwork.  You 
wanted  that  burl,  and  when  my  father  was  blind  and 
could  no  longer  make  his  Sunday  pilgrimage  up  to  that 
grove,  your  woods-boss  went  up  and  stole  that  which 
you  knew  you  could  not  buy." 

"That  will  be  about  all  from  you,  young  man.  Get 
out  of  my  office.  And  by  the  way,  forget  that  you 
have  met  my  niece." 

"It's  your  office — so  I'll  get  out.     As  for  your  second 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         127 

command" — he  snapped  his  fingers  in  Pennington's 
face— "fooey!" 

When  Bryce  had  gone,  the  Colonel  hurriedly  called 
his  logging-camp  on  the  telephone  and  asked  for  Jules 
Rondeau,  only  to  be  informed,  by  the  timekeeper  who 
answered  the  telephone,  that  Rondeau  was  up  in  the 
green  timber  with  the  choppers  and  could  not  be 
gotten  to  the  telephone  in  less  than  two  hours. 

"Do  not  send  for  him,  then," Pennington  commanded. 
"I'm  coming  up  on  the  eleven-fifteen  train  and  will 
talk  to  him  when  he  comes  in  for  his  lunch." 

At  eleven  o'clock,  and  just  as  the  Colonel  was 
leaving  to  board  the  eleven-fifteen  logging-train  bound 
empty  for  the  woods,  Shirley  Sumner  made  her  appear 
ance  in  his  office. 

"Uncle  Seth,"  she  complained,  "I'm  lonesome. 
The  bookkeeper  tells  me  you're  going  up  to  the  log 
ging-camp.  May  I  go  with  you?  " 

"By  all  means.  Usually  I  ride  in  the  cab  with  the 
engineer  and  fireman;  but  if  you're  coming,  I'll  have 
them  hook  on  the  caboose.  Step  lively,  my  dear,  or 
they'll  be  holding  the  train  for  us  and  upsetting  our 
schedule." 


CHAPTER  XV 

BY  VIRTUE  of  their  logging-contract  with 
Pennington,  the  Cardigans  and  their  employees 
were  transported  free  over  Pennington's  log 
ging  railroad;  hence,  when  Bryce  Cardigan  resolved 
to  wait  upon  Jules  Rondeau  in  the  matter  of  that  mur 
dered  Giant,  it  was  characteristic  of  him  to  choose 
the  shortest  and  most  direct  route  to  his  quarry,  and 
as  the  long  string  of  empty  logging-trucks  came  crawl 
ing  off  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company's  log- 
dump,  he  swung  over  the  side,  quite  ignorant  of  the 
fact  that  Shirley  and  her  precious  relative  were  riding 
in  the  little  caboose  in  the  rear. 

At  twelve-ten  the  train  slid  in  on  the  log  landing 
of  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company's  main  camp, 
and  Bryce  dropped  off  and  approached  the  engineer 
of  the  little  donkey-engine  used  for  loading  the  logs. 
"Where's  Rondeau?"  he  asked. 

The  engineer  pointed  to  a  huge,  swarthy  man 
approaching  across  the  clearing  in  which  the  camp 
was  situated.  "That's  him,"  he  replied.  And  with 
out  further  ado,  Bryce  strode  to  meet  his  man. 

"Are  you  Jules  Rondeau?"  he  demanded  as  he  came 
up  to  the  woods-boss.  The  latter  nodded.  "I'm 
Bryce  Cardigan,"  his  interrogator  announced,  "and 
I'm  here  to  thrash  you  for  chopping  that  big  redwood 
tree  over  in  that  littleValley  where  my  mother  is  buried." 

128 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         129 

"Ohi"  Rondeau  smiled.  "Wiz  pleasure,  M'sieur." 
And  without  a  moment's  hesitation  he  rushed.  Bryce 
backed  away  from  him  warily,  and  they  circled. 

"When  I  get  through  with  you,  B-ondeau,"  Bryce  said 
distinctly,  "it'll  take  a  good  man  to  lead  you  to  your 
meals.  This  country  isn't  big  enough  for  both  of  us, 
and  since  you  came  here  last,  you've  got  to  go  first." 

Bryce  stepped  in,  feinted  for  Rondeau's  jaw  with 
his  right,  and  when  the  woods-boss  quickly  covered, 
ripped  a  sizzling  left  into  the  latter's  midriff.  Ron 
deau  grunted  and  dropped  his  guard,  with  the  result 
that  Bryce's  great  fists  played  a  devil's  tattoo  on  his 
countenance  before  he  could  crouch  and  cover. 

"This  is  a  tough  one,"  thought  Bryce.  His  blows 
had  not,  apparently,  had  the  slightest  effect  on  the 
woods-boss.  Crouched  low  and  with  his  arms 
wrapped  around  his  head,  Rondeau  still  came  on  un 
falteringly,  and  Bryce  was  forced  to  give  way  before 
him;  to  save  his  hands,  he  avoided  the  risk  of  battering 
Rondeau's  hard  head  and  sinewy  arms. 

Already  word  that  the  woods-boss  was  battling  with 
a  stranger  had  been  shouted  into  the  camp  dining 
room,  and  the  entire  crew  of  that  camp,  abandoning 
their  half-finished  meal,  came  pouring  forth  to  view 
the  contest.  Out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye  Bryce  saw  them 
coming,  but  he  was  not  apprehensive,  for  he  knew  the 
code  of  the  woodsman:  "Let  every  man  roll  his  own 
hoop."  It  would  be  a  fight  to  a  finish,  for  no  man 
would  interfere;  striking,  kicking,  gouging,  biting,  or 
choking  would  not  be  looked  upon  as  unsportsmanlike; 
and  as  Bryce  backed  cautiously  away  from  the  huge, 
lithe,  active,  and  powerful  man  before  him,  he  realized 


130         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

that  Jules  Rondeau  was,  as  his  father  had  stated,  "top 
dog  among  the  lumberjacks." 

Rondeau,  it  was  apparent,  had  no  stomach  for  Bryce's 
style  of  combat.  He  wanted  a  rough-and-tumble 
fight  and  kept  rushing,  hoping  to  clinch;  if  he  could  but 
get  his  great  "hands  on  Bryce,  he  would  wrestle  him 
down,  climb  him,  and  finish  the  fight  in  jig-time.  But 
a  rough-and-tumble  was  exactly  what  Bryce  was 
striving  to  avoid;  hence  when  Rondeau  rushed, 
Bryce  side-stepped  and  peppered  the  woodsman's  ribs. 
But  the  woods-crew,  which  by  now  was  ringed  around 
them,  began  to  voice  disapproval  of  this  style  of 
battle. 

"Clinch  with  him,  dancing-master,"  a  voice  roared. 

"Tie  into  him,  Rondeau,"  another  shouted. 

"It's  a  fair  match,"  cried  another,  "and  the  red  one 
picked  on  the  main  push.  He  was  looking  for  a  fight, 
an'  he  ought  to  get  it;  but  these  fancy  fights  don't  suit 
me.  Flop  him,  stranger,  flop  him." 

"Rondeau  can't  catch  him,"  a  fourth  man  jeered. 
"He's  a  foot-racer,  not  a  fighter." 

Suddenly  two  powerful  hands  were  placed  between 
Bryce's  shoulders,  effectually  halting  his  backward 
progress;  then  he  was  propelled  violently  forward  until 
he  collided  with  Rondeau.  With  a  bellow  of  triumph, 
the  woods-boss's  gorilla-like  arms  were  around  Bryce, 
swinging  him  until  he  faced  the  man  who  had  forced 
him  into  that  terrible  grip.  This  was  no  less  a  per 
sonage  than  Colonel  Seth  Pennington,  and  it  was 
obvious  he  had  taken  charge  of  what  he  considered  the 
obsequies. 

"Stand  back,  you  men,  and  give  them  room,"  he 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         131 

shouted.  "Rondeau  will  take  care  of  him  now.  Stand 
back,  I  say.  I'll  discharge  the  man  that  interferes." 

With  a  heave  and  a  grunt  Rondeau  lifted  his  an 
tagonist,  and  the  pair  went  crashing  to  the  earth  to 
gether,  Bryce  underneath.  And  then  something  hap 
pened.  With  a  howl  of  pain,  Rondeau  rolled  over  on 
his  back  and  lay  clasping  his  left  wrist  in  his  right 
hand,  while  Bryce  scrambled  to  his  feet. 

"The  good  old  wrist-lock  does  the  trick,"  he  an 
nounced;  and  stooping,  he  grasped  the  woods-boss  by 
the  collar  with  his  left  hand,  lifted  him,  and  struck  him 
A  terrible  blow  in  the  face  with  his  right.  But  for  the 
arm  that  upheld  him,  Rondeau  would  have  fallen.  To 
have  him  fall,  however,  was  not  part  of  Bryce's  plan. 
Jerking  the  fellow  toward  him,  he  passed  his  arm 
around  Rondeau's  neck,  holding  the  latter's  head  as  in 
a  vise  with  the  crook  of  his  elbow.  And  then  the  bat 
tering  started.  When  it  was  finished,  Bryce  let  his 
man  go,  and  Rondeau,  bloody,  sobbing,  and  semi-con 
scious,  sprawled  on  the  ground. 

Bryce  bent  over  him.  "Now,  damn  you,"  he 
roared,  "who  felled  that  tree  in  Cardigan's  Redwoods?" 

"I  did,  M'sieur.  Enough— I  confess!"  The  words 
were  a  whisper. 

"Did  Colonel  Pennington  suggest  it  to  you?" 

"He  want  ze  burl.  By  gar,  I  do  not  want  to  fell  zat 
.  » 

"That's  all  I  want  to  know."  Stooping,  Bryce 
seized  Rondeau  by  the  nape  of  the  neck  and  the  slack 
of  his  overalls,  lifted  him  shoulder-high  and  threw  him, 
as  one  throws  a  sack  of  meal,  full  at  Colonel  Pennington. 

"You  threw  me  at  him.    Now  I  throw  him  at  you. 


IM    THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GLiNTS 

You  damned,  thieving,  greedy,  hypocritical  scoundrel,  if 
it  weren't  for  your  years  and  your  gray  hair,  I'd  kill  you/' 

The  helpless  hulk  of  the  woods-boss  descended  upon 
the  Colonel's  expansive  chest  and  sent  him  crashing 
earthward.  Then  Bryce,  war-mad,  turned  to  face  the 
ring  of  Laguna  Grande  employees  about  him. 

"Next!"  he  roared.  "Singly,  in  pairs,  or  the  whole 
damned  pack ! " 

"Mr.  Cardigan!" 

He  turned.  Colonel  Pennington's  breath  had  been 
knocked  out  of  his  body  by  the  impact  of  his  semi-con 
scious  woods-boss,  and  he  lay  inert,  gasping  like  a 
hooked  fish.  Beside  him  Shirley  Sumner  was  kneeling, 
her  hands  clasping  her  uncle's,  but  with  her  violet 
eyes  blazing  fiercely  on  Bryce  Cardigan. 

"How  dare  you?"  she  cried.  "You  coward!  To 
hurt  my  uncle!" 

He  gazed  at  her  a  moment,  fiercely,  defiantly,  his 
chest  rising  and  falling  from  his  recent  exertions, 
his  knotted  fists  gory  with  the  blood  of  his  enemy* 
Then  the  light  of  battle  died,  and  he  hung  his  head. 
"I'm  sorry,"  he  murmured,  (:  not  for  his  sake,  but 
yours.  I  didn't  know  you  were  here.  I  forgot — myself. " 

"I'll  never  speak  to  you  again  so  long  as  I  live,"  she 
burst  out  passionately. 

He  advanced  a  step  and  stood  gazing  down  upon  her. 
Her  angry  glance  met  his  unflinchingly;  and  presently 
for  him  the  light  went  out  of  the  world. 

"Very  well,"  he  murmured.  "Good-bye."  And 
with  bowed  head  he  turned  and  made  off  through  the 
green  timber  toward  his  own  logging-camp  five  miles 
distant. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WITH  the  descent  upon  his  breast  of  the  limp 
body  of  his  big  woods-bully,  Colonel  Pen- 
nington  had  been  struck  to  earth  as  effectively 
as  if  a  fair-sized  tree  had  fallen  on  him.  Indeed,  with 
such  force  did  his  proud  head  collide  with  terra  firma 
that  had  it  not  been  for  the  soft  cushion  of  ferns  and 
tiny  redwood  twigs,  his  neck  must  have  been  broken  by 
the  shock.  To  complete  his  withdrawal  from  active 
service,  the  last  whiff  of  breath  had  been  driven  from 
his  lungs;  and  for  the  space  of  a  minute,  during  which 
Jules  Rondeau  lay  heavily  across  his  midriff,  the 
Colonel  was  quite  unable  to  get  it  back.  Pale,  gasping, 
and  jarred  from  soul  to  suspenders,  he  was  merely  aware 
that  something  uneipected  and  disconcerting  had 
occurred. 

While  the  Colonel  fought  for  his  breath,  his  woodsmen 
remained  in  the  offing,  paralyzed  into  inactivity 
by  reason  of  the  swiftness  and  thoroughness  of 
Bryce  Cardigan's  work;  then  Shirley  motioned  to 
them  to  remove  the  wreckage,  and  they  Lustened  to 
obey. 

Freed  from  the  weight  on  the  geometric  centre  of  his 
being,  Colonel  Pennington  stretched  his  legs,  rolled  his 
head  from  side  to  side,  and  snorted  violently  several 
times  like  a  buck.  After  the  sixth  snort  he  felt  so 
much  better  that  a  clear  understanding  of  the  exact 

153 


134         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

nature  of  the  catastrophe  came  to  him;  he  struggled 
and  sat  up,  looking  around  a  little  wildly. 

"Where — did — Cardigan — go?"  he  gasped. 

One  of  his  men  pointed  to  the  timber  into  which  the 
enemy  had  just  disappeared. 

"Surround  him — take  him,"  Pennington  ordered. 
"I'll  give — a  month's  pay — to  each  of — the  six  men 
that  bring — that  scoundrel  to  me.  Get  him — quickly! 
Understand?" 

Not  a  man  moved.  Pennington  shook  with  fury. 
"Get  him,"  he  croaked.  "There  are  enough  of  you 
to  do — the  job.  Close  in  on  him — everybody.  I'll 
give  a  month's  pay  to — everybody." 

A  man  of  that  indiscriminate  mixture  of  Spaniard 
and  Indian  known  in  California  as  cholo  swept  the  circle 
of  men  with  an  alert  and  knowing  glance.  His  name 
was  Flavio  Artelan,  but  his  straight  black  hair,  dark 
russet  complexion,  beady  eyes,  and  hawk  nose  gave 
him  such  a  resemblance  to  a  fowl  that  he  was  known 
among  his  fellows  as  the  Black  Minorca,  regardless 
of  the  fact  that  this  sobriquet  was  scarcely  fair  to  a 
very  excellent  breed  of  chicken.  "That  offer's  good 
enough  for  me,"  he  remarked  in  businesslike  tones. 
"Come  on — everybody.  A  month's  pay  for  five  min 
utes'  work.  I  wouldn't  tackle  the  job  with  six  men,  but 
there  are  twenty  of  us  here." 

"Hurry,"  the  Colonel  urged  them. 

Shirley  Sumner's  flashing  glance  rested  upon  the 
Black  Minorca.  "  Don't  you  dare ! "  she  cried.  "  Twenty 
to  one !  For  shame ! ' ' 

"For  a  month's  pay,"  he  replied  impudently,  and 
grinned  evilly.  "And  I'm  takin'  orders  from  my  boss." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         135 

He  started  on  a  dog-trot  for  the  timber,  and  a  dozen 
men  trailed  after  him. 

Shirley  turned  helplessly  on  her  uncle,  seized  his 
arm  and  shook  it  frantically.  "Call  them  back!  Call 
them  back!"  she  pleaded. 

Her  uncle  got  uncertainly  to  his  feet.  "Not  on 
your  life!"  he  growled,  and  in  his  cold  gray  eyes  there 
danced  the  lights  of  a  thousand  devils.  "I  told  you 
the  fellow  was  a  ruffian.  Now,  perhaps,  you'll  believe 
me.  We'll  hold  him  until  Rondeau  revives,  and 
then- 
Shirley  guessed  the  rest,  and  she  realized  that  it 
was  useless  to  plead — that  she  was  only  wasting  time. 
"Bryce!  Bryce!"  she  called.  "Run!  They're  after 
you.  Twenty  of  them!  Run,  run — for  my  sake!" 
His  voice  answered  her  from  the  timber:  "Run? 
From  those  cattle?  Not  from  man  or  devil."  A 
silence.  Then:  "So  you've  changed  your  mind,  have 
you?  You've  spoken  to  me  again!"  There  was 
triumph,  exultation  in  his  voice.  "The  timber's  too 
thick,  Shirley.  I  couldn't  get  away  anyhow — so  I'm 
coming  back." 

She  saw  him  burst  through  a  thicket  of  alder  saplings 
into  the  clearing,  saw  half  a  dozen  of  her  uncle's  men 
close  in  around  him  like  wolves  around  a  sick  steer; 
and  at  the  shock  of  their  contact,  she  moaned  and  hid 
her  face  in  her  trembling  hands. 

Half  man  and  half  tiger  that  he  was,  the  Black 
Minorca,  as  self-appointed  leader,  reached  Bryce  first. 
The  cholo  was  a  squat,  powerful  little  man,  with  more 
bounce  to  him  than  a  rubber  ball;  leading  his  men  by 
a  dozen  yards,  he  hesitated  not  an  instant  but  dodged 


136         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

under  the  blow  Bryce  lashed  out  at  him  and  came  up 
inside  the  latter's  guard,  feeling  for  Bryce's  throat. 
Instead  he  met  Bryce's  knee  in  his  abdomen,  and 
forthwith  he  folded  up  like  an  accordion. 

The  next  instant  Bryce  had  stooped,  caught  him  by 
the  slack  of  the  trousers  and  the  scruff  of  the  neck  and 
thrown  him,  as  he  had  thrown  Rondeau,  into  the  midst 
of  the  men  advancing  to  his  aid.  Three  of  them  went 
down  backward;  and  Bryce,  charging  over  them, 
stretched  two  more  with  well-placed  blows  from  left 
and  right,  and  continued  on  across  the  clearing,  running 
at  top  speed,  for  he  realized  that  for  all  the  desperation 
of  his  fight  and  the  losses  already  inflicted  on  his 
assailants,  the  odds  against  him  were  insurmountable. 

Seeing  him  running  away,  the  Laguna  Grande  woods 
men  took  heart  and  hope  and  pursued  him.  Straight 
for  the  loading  donkey  at  the  log-landing  Bryce  ran. 
Beside  the  donkey  stood  a  neat  tier  of  firewood;  in  the 
chopping  block,  where  the  donkey-fireman  had  driven 
it  prior  to  abandoning  his  post  to  view  the  contest  be 
tween  Bryce  and  Jules  Rondeau,  was  a  double-bitted  axe. 
Bryce  jerked  it  loose,  swung  it,  whirled  on  his  pursuers, 
and  rushed  them.  Like  turkeys  scattering  before  the 
raid  of  a  coyote  they  fled  in  divers  directions  and  from 
a  safe  distance  turned  to  gaze  apprehensively  upon  this 
demon  they  had  been  ordered  to  bring  in. 

Bryce  lowered  the  axe,  removed  his  hat,  and  mopped 
his  moist  brow.  From  the  centre  of  the  clearing  men 
were  crawling  or  staggering  to  safety — with  the  ex 
ception  of  the  Black  Minorca,  who  lay  moaning  softly. 
Colonel  Pennington,  seeing  his  fondest  hopes  expire, 
lost  his  head  completely. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         137 

"Get  off  my  property,  you  savage,"  he  shrilled 

"Don't  be  a  nut,  Colonel,"  Bryce  returned  soothingly. 
"I'll  get  off — when  I  get  good  and  ready,  and  not  a 
second  sooner.  In  fact,  I  was  trying  to  get  off  as  rap 
idly  as  I  could  when  you  sent  your  men  to  bring  me  back. 
Prithee  why,  old  thing  ?  Didst  crave  more  conversation 
with  me,  or  didst  want  thy  camp  cleaned  out?" 

He  started  toward  Pennington,  who  backed  hastily 
away.  Shirley  stood  her  ground,  bending  upon  Bryce, 
as  he  approached  her,  a  cold  and  disapproving  glance, 
"I'll  get  you  yet,"  the  Colonel  declared  from  the 
shelter  of  an  old  stump  behind  which  he  had  taken 
refuge. 

"Barking  dogs  never  bite,  Colonel.  And  that  re 
minds  me:  I've  heard  enough  from  you.  One  more 
cheep  out  af  you,  my  friend,  and  I'll  go  up  to  my  own 
logging-camp,  return  here  with  a  crew  of  bluenoses  and 
wild  Irish  and  run  your  wops,  bohunks,  and  cholos  out 
of  the  county.  I  don't  fancy  the  class  of  labour  you're 
importing  into  this  county,  anyhow." 

The  Colonel,  evidently  deciding  that  discretion  was 
the  better  part  of  valour,  promptly  subsided,  although 
Bryce  could  see  that  he  was  mumbling  threats  to  him 
self,  though  not  in  an  audible  voice. 

The  demon  Cardigan  halted  beside  Shirley  and  stood 
gazing  down  at  her.  He  was  smiling  at  her  whimsi 
cally.  She  met  his  glance  for  a  few  seconds;  then  her 
lids  were  lowered  and  she  bit  her  lip  with  vexation. 

"Shirley,"  he  said. 

"  You  are  presumptuous,"  she  quavered. 

"You  set  me  an  example  in  presumption,"  he  re 
torted  good  humouredly.  "Did  you  not  call  me  by  my 


138         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

first  name  a  minute  ago?  "  He  glanced  toward  Colonel 
Pennington  and  observed  the  latter  with  his  neck 
craned  across  his  protecting  stump.  He  was  all  ears. 
Bryce  pointed  sternly  across  the  clearing,  and  the 
Colonel  promptly  abandoned  his  refuge  and  retreated 
hastily  in  the  direction  indicated. 

The  heir  to  Cardigan's  Redwoods  bent  over  the  girl. 
"You  spoke  to  me — after  your  promise  not  to,  Shirley," 
he  said  gently.  "You  will  always  speak  to  me." 

She  commenced  to  cry  softly.  "I  loathe  you,"  she 
sobbed. 

"For  you  I  have  the  utmost  respect  and  admiration," 
he  replied. 

"No,  you  haven't.  If  you  had,  you  wouldn't  hurt 
my  uncle — the  only  human  being  in  all  this  world  who 
is  dear  to  me." 

"Gosh!"  he  murmured  plaintively.  "I'm  jealous 
of  that  man.  However,  I'm  sorry  I  hurt  him.  He  is 
no  longer  young,  while  I — well,  I  forgot  the  chivalry 
my  daddy  taught  me.  I  give  you  my  word  I  came  here 
to  fight  fairly " 

"He  merely  tried  to  stop  you  from  fighting." 

"No,  he  didn't,  Shirley.  He  interfered  and  fouled 
me.  Still,  despite  that,  if  I  had  known  you  were  a 
spectator  I  think  I  should  have  controlled  myself  and 
refrained  from  pulling  off  my  vengeance  in  your  presence. 
I  shall  never  cease  to  regret  that  I  subjected  you  to 
such  a  distressing  spectacle.  I  do  hope,  however,  that 
you  will  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  I  am  not  a  bully, 
although  when  there  is  a  fight  worth  while,  I  never 
dodge  it.  And  th'is  time  I  fought  for  the  honour  of  the 
House  of  Cardigan." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         139 

"If  you  want  me  to  believe  that,  you  will  beg  my 
uncle's  pardon." 

"I  can't  do  that.  He  is  my  enemy  and  I  shall  hate 
him  forever;  I  shall  fight  him  and  his  way  of  doing 
business  until  he  reforms  or  I  am  exhausted." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  showing  a  face  in  which  re 
sentment,  outrage,  and  wistfulness  were  mirrored. 
"You  realize,  of  course,  what  your  insistence  on  that 
plan  means,  Mr.  Cardigan?" 

"Call  me  Bryce,"  he  pleaded.  "You're  going  to 
call  me  that  some  day  anyhow,  so  why  not  start 
now?" 

"You  are  altogether  insufferable,  sir.  Please  go 
away  and  never  presume  to  address  me  again.  You 
are  quite  impossible." 

He  shook  his  head.  "I  do  not  give  up  that  readily, 
Shirley.  I  didn't  know  how  dear — what  your  friend 
ship  meant  to  me,  until  you  sent  me  away;  I  didn't 
think  there  was  any  hope  until  you  warned  me  those 
dogs  were  hunting  me — and  called  me  Bryce."  He 
held  out  his  hand.  "'God  gave  us  our  relations," 
he  quoted,  "'but  thank  God,  we  can  choose  our  friends/ 
And  I'll  be  a  good  friend  to  you,  Shirley  Sumner,  until 
I  have  earned  the  right  to  be  something  more.  Won't 
you  shake  hands  with  me ?  Remember,  this  fight  to-day 
is  only  the  first  skirmish  in  a  war  to  the  finish — and  I 
am  leading  a  forlorn  hope.  If  I  lose — well,  this  will 
be  good-bye." 

"I  hate  you,"  she  answered  drearily.  "All  our 
fine  friendship — smashed — and  you  growing  stupidly 
sentimental.  I  didn't  think  it  of  you._  Please  go 
away.  You  are  distressing  me." 


140         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

He  smiled  at  her  tenderly,  forgivingly,  wistfully, 
but  she  did  not  see  it.  "Then  it  is  really  good-by,"  he 
murmured  with  mock  dolorousness. 

She  nodded  her  bowed  head.  "Yes,"  she  whispered, 
"After  all,  I  have  some  pride,  you  know.  You  mustn't 
presume  to  be  the  butterfly  preaching  contentment  to 
th€  *oad  in  the  dust." 

"As  you  will  it,  Shirley."  He  turned  away.  "I'll 
send  your  axe  back  with  the  first  trainload  of  logs  from 
my  camp,  Colonel,"  he  called  to  Pennington. 

Once  more  he  strode  away  into  the  timber.  Shirley 
watched  him  pass  out  of  her  life,  and  gloried  in  what 
she  conceived  to  be  his  agony,  for  she  had  both  temper 
and  spirit,  and  Bryce  Cardigan  calmly,  blunderingly, 
rather  stupidly  (she  thought)  had  presumed  flagrantly 
en  brief  acquaintance.  Her  uncle  was  right.  He  was 
net  cf  their  kind  of  people,  and  it  was  well  she  had  dis 
covered  this  before  permitting  herself  to  develop  a 
livelier  feeling  of  friendship  for  him.  It  was  true  he 
possessed  certain  manly  virtues,  but  his  crudities  by 
far  outweighed  these. 

The  Colonel's  voice  broke  in  upon  her  bitter  re 
flections.  "That  fellow  Cardigan  is  a  hard  nut  to 
crack — I'll  say  that  for  him."  He  had  crossed  the 
clearing  to  her  side  and  was  addressing  her  with  his 
customary  air  of  expansiveness.  "I  think,  my  dear9 
you  had  better  go  back  into  the  caboose,  away  from 
the  prying  eyes  of  these  rough  fellows.  I'm  sorry  you 
came,  Shirley.  I'll  never  forgive  myself  for  bringing 
you.  If  I  had  thought — but  how  could  I  know  that 
scoundrel  was  coming  here  to  raise  a  disturbance? 
And  only  last  night  he  was  at  our  house  for  dinner!" 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         111 

/**  That's  just  what  makes  it  so  terrible,  Uncle 
Seth,"  she  quavered. 

"It  is  hard  to  believe  that  a  man  of  young  Car 
digan's  evident  intelligence  and  advantages  could  be 
such  a  boor,  Shirley.  However,  I,  for  one,  am  not 
smpri*<*d.  You  will  recall  that  I  warned  you  he  might 
be  iiis  father's  son.  The  best  course  to  pursue  now  is 
to  forget  that  you  have  ever  met  the  fellow." 

**I  wonder  what  could  have  occurred  to  make  such 
a  madman  of  him  ?  "  the  girl  queried  wonderingly .  "  He 
acted  more  like  a  demon  than  a  human  being." 

"Just  like  his  old  father,"  the  Colonel  purred  be 
nevolently.  "When  he  can't  get  what  he  wants,  he 
sulks.  I'll  tell  you  what  got  on  his  confounded  nerves. 
I've  been  freighting  logs  for  the  senior  Cardigan  over 
my  railroad ;  the  contract  for  hauling  them  was  a  herit 
age  from  old  Bill  Henderson,  from  whom  I  bought  the 
mill  and  timber-lands;  and  of  course  as  his  assignee 
it  was  incumbent  upon  me  to  fulfill  Henderson's  con 
tract  with  Cardigan,  even  though  the  freight-rate  was 
ruinous. 

"Well,  this  morning  young  Cardigan  came  to  my 
office,  reminded  me  that  the  contract  would  expire  by 
limitation  next  year  and  asked  me  to  renew  it,  and  at 
the  same  freight-rate.  I  offered  to  renew  the  contract 
but  at  a  higher  freight-rate,  and  explained  to  him  that 
I  could  not  possibly  continue  to  haul  his  logs  at  a  loss. 
Well,  right  away  he  flew  into  a  rage  and  called  me  a 
robber;  whereupon  I  informed  him  that  since  he  thought 
me  a  robber,  perhaps  we  had  better  not  ajxcmpt  to 
have  any  business  dealings  with  each  other — that  I 
really  didn't  want  his  contract  at  any  price,  having 


142         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

scarcely  sufficient  rolling-stock  to  handle  my  own  logs. 
That  made  him  calm  down,  but  in  a  little  while  he  lost 
his  head  again  and  grew  snarly  and  abusive — to  such 
an  extent,  indeed,  that  finally  I  was  forced  to  ask  him 
to  leave  my  office." 

"Nevertheless,  Uncle  Seth,  I  cannot  understand  why 
he  should  make  such  a  furious  attack  upon  your  em 
ployee." 

The  Colonel  laughed  with  a  fair  imitation  of  sin 
cerity  and  tolerant  amusement.  "My  dear,  that  is 
no  mystery  to  me.  There  are  men  who,  finding  it  im 
possible  or  inadvisable  to  make  a  physical  attack  upon 
their  enemy,  find  ample  satisfaction  in  poisoning  his 
favourite  dog,  burning  his  house,  or  beating  up  one  of 
his  faithful  employees.  Cardigan  picked  on  Rondeau 
for  the  reason  that  a  few  days  ago  he  tried  to  hire  Ron 
deau  away  from  me — offered  him  twenty-five  dollars 
a  month  more  than  I  was  paying  him,  by  George!  Of 
course  when  Rondeau  came  to  me  with  Cardigan's  prop 
osition,  I  promptly  met  Cardigan's  bid  and  retained 
Rondeau;  consequently  Cardigan  hates  us  both  and 
took  the  earliest  opportunity  to  vent  his  spite  on  us." 

The  Colonel  sighed  and  brushed  the  dirt  and  leaves 
from  his  tweeds.  "Thunder,"  he  continued  philosophi 
cally,  "it's  all  in  the  game,  so  why  worry  over  it?  And 
why  continue  to  discuss  an  unpleasant  topic,  my  dear?" 

A  groan  from  the  Black  Minorca  challenged  her  at 
tention.  "I  think  that  man  is  badly  hurt,  Uncle," 
she  suggested. 

"Serves  him  right,"  he  returned  coldly.  " He  tackled 
that  cyclone  full  twenty  feet  in  advance  of  the  others; 
if  they'd  all  closed  in  together,  they  would  have  pulled 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         143 

him  down.  I'll  have  that  cholo  and  Rondeau  sent 
down  with  the  next  trainload  of  logs  to  the  company 
hospital.  They're  a  poor  lot  and  deserve  manhand 
ling " 

They  paused,  facing  toward  the  timber,  from  which 
came  a  voice,  powerful,  sweetly  resonant,  raised  in 
song.  Shirley  knew  that  half-trained  baritone,  for 
she  had  heard  it  the  night  before  when  Bryce  Cardigan, 
faking  his  own  accompaniment  at  the  piano,  had  sung 
for  her  a  number  of  carefully  expurgated  lumberjack 
ballads,  the  lunatic  humour  of  which  had  delighted 
her  exceedingly.  She  marvelled  now  at  his  choice  of 
minstrelsy,  for  the  melody  was  hauntingly  plaintive — 
the  words  Eugene  Field's  poem  of  childhood,  "Little 
Boy  Blue." 

"The  little  toy  dog  is  covered  with  dust, 

But  sturdy  and  stanch  he  stands; 
And  the  little  toy  soldier  is  red  with  rust, 

And  his  musket  molds  in  his  hands. 
Time  was  when  the  little  toy  dog  was  new, 

And  the  soldier  was  passing  fair; 
And  that  was  the  time  when  our  little  boy  blue, 

Kissed  them  and  put  them  there." 

"Light-hearted  devil,  isn't  he?"  the  Colonel  com 
mented  approvingly.  "And  his  voice  isn't  half  bad. 
lust  singing  to  be  defiant,  I  suppose." 

Shirley  did  not  answer.  But  a  few  minutes  pre 
viously  she  had  seen  the  singer  a  raging  fury,  brand 
ishing  an  axe  and  driving  men  before  him.  She  could 
not  understand.  And  presently  the  song  grew  faint 
among  the  timber  and  died  away  entirely. 


144         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Her  uncle  took  her  gently  by  the  arm  and  steered 
her  toward  the  caboose.  "Well,  what  do  you  think 
of  your  company  now?"  he  demanded  gayly. 

"I  think,"  she  answered  soberly,  "that  you  have 
gained  an  enemy  worth  while  and  that  it  behooves  you 
not  to  underestimate  him/' 


CHAPTER  XVH 

y  •  ^nxvvjuvjn  the  green  timber  Bryce  Cardigan 
strode,  and  there  was  a  lilt  in  his  heart  now. 
Already  he  had  forgotten  the  desperate  situation 
from  which  he  had  just  escaped;  he  thought  only  of  Shir 
ley  Sunnier 's  face,  tear-stained  with  terror;  and  because 
he  knew  that  at  least  some  of  those  tears  had  been  in 
spired  by  the  gravest  apprehensions  as  to  his  physical 
well-being,  because  in  his  ears  there  still  resounded  her 
frantic  warning,  he  realized  that  however  stern  her 
decree  of  banishment  had  been,  she  was  nevertheless 
not  indifferent  to  him.  And  it  was  this  knowledge 
that  had  thrilled  him  into  song  and  which  when  his 
song  was  done  had  brought  to  his  firm  mouth  a  mo 
bility  that  presaged  his  old  whimsical  smile — to 
his  brown  eyes  a  beaming  light  of  confidence  and 
pride. 

The  climax  had  been  reached — and  passed;  and  the 
result  had  been  far  from  the  disaster  he  had  painted 
in  his  mind's  eye  ever  since  the  knowledge  had  come 
to  him  that  he  was  doomed  to  battle  to  a  knockout 
with  Colonel  Pennington,  and  that  one  of  the  earliest 
fruits  of  hostilities  would  doubtless  be  the  loss  of 
Shirley  Sumner's  prized  friendship.  Well,  he  had 
lost  her  friendship,  but  a  still  small  voice  whispered  to 
him  that  the  loss  was  not  irreparable — whereat  he 
swung  his  axe  as  a  bandmaster  swings  his  baton;  he  was 

ui 


146         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

glad  that  he  had  started  the  war  and  was  now  free  to 
fight  it  out  unhampered. 

Up  hill  and  down  dale  he  went.  Because  of  the 
tremendous  trees  he  could  not  see  the  sun;  yet  with  the 
instinct  of  the  woodsman,  an  instinct  as  infallible  as 
that  of  a  homing  pigeon,  he  was  not  puzzled  as  to 
direction.  Within  two  hours  his  long,  tireless  stride 
brought  him  out  into  a  clearing  in  the  valley  where 
his  own  logging-camp  stood.  He  went  directly  to  the 
log-landing,  where  in  a  listless  and  half-hearted  man 
ner  the  loading  crew  were  piling  logs  on  Pennington's 
logging-trucks. 

Bryce  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  two  o'clock;  at 
two-fifteen  Pennington's  locomotive  would  appear, 
to  back  in  and  couple  to  the  long  line  of  trucks.  And 
the  train  was  only  half  loaded. 

"Where's  MeTavish?"  Bryce  demanded  of  the  don 
key-driver.  1 

The  man  mouthed  his  quid,  spat  copiously,  wiped 
his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  and  pointed. 
"Up  at  his  shanty,"  he  made  answer,  and  grinned  at 
Bryce  knowingly. 

Up  through  the  camp's  single  short  street,  flanked 
on  each  side  with  the  woodsmen's  shanties,  Bryce  went. 
Dogs  barked  at  him,  for  he  was  a  stranger  in  his  own 
camp;  children,  playing  in  the  dust,  gazed  upon  him 
owlishly.  At  the  most  pretentious  shanty  on  the 
street  Bryce  turned  in.  He  had  never  seen  it  before, 
but  he  knew  it  to  be  the  woods-boss's  home,  for  un 
like  its  neighbours  the  house  was  painted  with  the 
coarse  red  paint  that  is  used  on  box-cars,  while  a  fence, 
made  of  fancy  pointed  pickets  painted  white,  inclosed 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         147 

a  tiny  garden  in  front  of  the  house.  As  Bryce  came 
through  the  gate,  a  young  girl  rose  from  where  she 
knelt  in  a  bed  of  freshly  transplanted  pansies. 

Bryce  lifted  his  hat.  "Is  Mr.  McTavish  at  home?" 
he  asked. 

She  nodded.  "He  cannot  see  anybody,"  she  has 
tened  to  add.  "  He's  sick." 

"I  think  he'll  see  me.  And  I  wonder  if  you're 
Moira  McTavish." 

"Yes,I'mMoira." 

"I'm  Bryce  Cardigan." 

A  look  of  fright  crept  into  the  girl's  eyes.  "Are 
you — Bryce  Cardigan?"  she  faltered,  and  looked  at 
him  more  closely.  "Yes,  you're  Mr.  Bryce.  You've 
changed — but  then  it's  been  six  years  since  we  saw 
you  last,  Mr.  Bryce." 

He  came  toward  her  with  outstretched  hand.  "And 
you  were  a  little  girl  when  I  saw  you  last.  Now — 
you're  a  woman."  She  grasped  his  hand  with  the 
frank  heartiness  of  a  man.  "I'm  mighty  glad  to 
meet  you  again,  Moira.  I  just  guessed  who  you  were, 
for  of  course  I  should  never  have  recognized  you. 
When  I  saw  you  last,  you  wore  your  hair  in  a  braid 
down  your  back." 

"I'm  twenty  years  old,"  she  informed  him. 

"Stand  right  where  you  are  until  I  have  looked  at 
you,"  he  commanded,  and  backed  off  a  few  feet,  the 
better  to  contemplate  her. 

He  saw  a  girl  slightly  above  medium  height,  tanned, 
robust,  simply  gowned  in  a  gingham  dress.  Her  hands 
were  soiled  from  her  recent  labours  in  the  pansy-bed, 
and  her  shoes  were  heavy  and  coarse;  yet  neither 


148         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

hands  nor  feet  were  large  or  ungraceful.  Her  head 
was  well  formed;  her  hair,  jet  black  and  of  unusual 
lustre  and  abundance,  was  parted  in  the  middle  and 
held  in  an  old-fashioned  coil  at  the  nape  of  a  neck  the 
beauty  of  which  was  revealed  by  the  low  cut  of  her 
simple  frock.  Moira  was  a  decided  brunette,  with  that 
wonderful  quality  of  skin  to  be  seen  only  among  bru 
nettes  who  have  roses  in  their  cheeks;  her  brow  was 
broad  and  spiritual;  in  her  eyes,  large,  black,  and  lis- 
trous,  there  was  a  brooding  tenderness  not  untouched 
with  sorrow — some  such  expression,  indeed,  as  da 
Vinci  put  in  the  eyes  of  his  Mona  Lisa.  Her  nose  was 
patrician,  her  face  oval;  her  lips,  full  and  red,  were 
slightly  parted  in  the  adorable  Cupid's  bow  which  is 
the  inevitable  heritage  of  a  short  upper  lip;  her  teeth 
were  white  as  Parian  marble;  and  her  full  breast  was 
rising  and  falling  swiftly,  as  if  she  laboured  under  sup 
pressed  excitement. 

So  delightful  a  picture  did  Moira  McTavish  make 
that  Bryce  forgot  all  his  troubles  in  her  sweet  presence. 
"By  the  gods,  Moira,"  he  declared  earnestly,  "you're  a 
peach!  When  I  saw  you  last,  you  were  awkward  and 
leggy,  like  a  colt.  I'm  sure  you  weren't  a  bit  good- 
looking.  And  now  you're  the  mcst  ravishing  young 
lady  in  seventeen  counties.  By  jingo,  Moira,  you're  a 
stunner  and  no  mistake.  Are  you  married?  " 

She  shook  her  head,  blushing  pleasurably  at  his  un 
polished  but  sincere  compliments. 

"What?  Not  married.  Why,  what  the  deuce  can 
be  the  matter  with  the  eligible  young  fellows  here 
abouts?" 

"There  aren't  any  eligible  young  fellows  hereabouts, 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GLINTS    149 

Mr.  Bryce.  And  I've  lived  in  these  woods  all  my 
life," 

"That's  why  you  haven't  been  discovered." 

"And  I  don't  intend  to  marry  a  lumberjack  and  con 
tinue  to  live  in  these  woods,"  she  went  on  earnestly,  as 
if  she  found  pleasure  in  this  opportunity  to  announce 
her  rebellion.  Despite  her  defiance,  however,  there 
was  a  note  of  sad  resignation  in  her  voice. 

"You  don't  know  a  thing  about  it,  Moira.  Some 
bright  day  your  Prince  Charming  will  come  by,  riding 
the  log-train,  and  after  that  it  will  always  be  autumn  in 
the  woods  for  you.  Everything  will  just  naturally 
turn  to  crimson  and  gold." 

"How  do  you  know,  Mr  Bryce?" 

He  laughed.     "I  read  about  it  in  a  book." 

"I  prefer  spring  in  the  woods,  I  think.  It  seems 

It's  so  foolish  of  me,  I  know;  I  ought  to  be  contented, 
but  it's  hard  to  be  contented  when  it  is  always  winter 
in  one's  heart.  That  frieze  of  timber  on  the  skyline 
limits  my  world,  Mr  Bryce.  Hills  and  timber,  timber 
and  hills,  and  the  thunder  of  falling  redwoods.  And 
when  the  trees  have  been  logged  off  so  we  can  see  the 
world,  we  move  back  into  green  timber  again."  She 
sighed. 

"Are  you  lonely,  Moira?" 

She  nodded. 

"Poor  Moira!"  he  murmured  absently. 

The  thought  that  he  so  readily  understood  touched 
her;  a  glint  of  tears  was  in  her  sad  eyes.  He  saw  them 
and  placed  his  arm  fraternally  around  her  shoulders. 
"Tut-tut,  Moira!  Don't  cry,"  he  soothed  her.  "I 
understand  perfectly,  and  of  course  we'll  have  to  do 


150         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

something  about  it.  You're  too  fine  for  this."  With 
a  sweep  of  his  hand  he  indicated  the  camp.  He  had 
led  her  to  the  low  stoop  in  front  of  the  shanty.  "Sit 
down  on  the  steps,  Moira,  and  we'll  talk  it  over.  I 
really  called  to  see  your  father,  but  I  guess  I  don't  want 
to  see  him  after  all — if  he's  sick." 

She  looked  at  him  bravely.  "I  didn't  know  you  at 
first,  Mr.  Bryce.  I  fibbed.  Father  isn't  sick.  He's 
drunk." 

"I  thought  so  when  I  saw  the  loading-crew  taking  it 
easy  at  the  log-landing.  I'm  terribly  sorry." 

"I  loathe  it — and  I  cannot  leave  it,"  she  burst  out 
vehemently.  "I'm  chained  to  my  degradation.  I 
dream  dreams,  and  they'll  never  come  true.  I — I — oh, 
Mr.  Bryce,  Mr.  Bryce,  I'm  so  unhappy." 

"So  am  I,"  he  retorted.  "We  all  get  our  dose  of  it, 
you  know,  and  just  at  present  I'm  having  an  extra 
helping,  it  seems.  You're  cursed  with  too  much  im 
agination,  Moira.  I'm  sorry  about  your  father.  He's 
been  with  us  a  long  time,  and  my  father  has  borne 
a  lot  from  him  for  old  sake's  sake;  he  told  me  the  other 
night  that  he  has  discharged  Mac  fourteen  times  during 
the  past  ten  years,  but  to  date  he  hasn't  been  able  tft 
make  it  stick.  For  all  his  sixty  years,  Moira,  your 
confounded  parent  can  still  manhandle  any  man  on 
the  pay-roll,  and  as  fast  as  Dad  put  in  a  new  woods-boss 
old  Mac  drove  him  off  the  job.  He  simply  declines  to 
be  fired,  and  Dad's  worn  out  and  too  tired  to  bother 
about  his  old  woods-boss  any  more.  He's  been  wait 
ing  until  I  should  get  back." 

"I  know,"  said  Moira  wearily.  "Nobody  wants  to 
be  Cardigan's  woods-boss  and  have  to  fight  my  father 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         151 

to  hold  his  job.  I  realize  what  a  nuisance  he  has  be 
come." 

Bryce  chuckled.  "I  asked  Father  why  he  didn't 
stand  pat  and  let  Mac  work  for  nothing;  having  dis 
charged  him,  my  father  was  under  no  obligation  to 
give  him  his  salary  just  because  he  insisted  on  being 
woods-boss.  Dad  might  have  starved  your  father  out 
of  these  woods,  but  the  trouble  was  that  old  Mac 
would  always  come  and  promise  reform  and  end  up  by 
borrowing  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars,  and  then  Dad 
had  to  hire  him  again  to  get  it  back !  Of  course  the 
matter  simmers  down  to  this:  Dad  is  so  fond  of  your 
father  that  he  just  hasn't  got  the  moral  courage  to 
work  him  over — and  now  that  job  is  up  to  me.  Moira, 
I'm  not  going  to  beat  about  the  bush  with  you.  They 
tell  me  your  father  is  a  hopeless  inebriate." 

"I'm  afraid  he  is,  Mr.  Bryce." 

"How  long  has  he  been  drinking  to  excess?" 

"About  ten  years,  I  think.  Of  course,  he  would 
always  take  a  few  drinks  with  the  men  around  pay-day, 
but  after  Mother  died,  he  began  taking  his  drinks 
between  pay-days.  Then  he  took  to  going  down  to 
Sequoia  on  Saturday  nights  and  coming  back  on  the 
mad-train,  the  maddest  of  the  lot.  I  suppose  he  was 
lonely,  too.  He  didn't  get  real  bad,  however,  till  about 
two  years  ago." 

"Just  about  the  time  my  father's  eyes  began  to  fail 
him  and  he  ceased  coming  up  into  the  woods  to  jack 
Mac  up?  So  he  let  the  brakes  go  and  started  to  coast, 
and  now  he's  reached  the  bottom!  I  couldn't  get  him 
on  the  telephone  to-day  or  yesterday.  I  suppose  he 
was  down  in  Arcata,  liquoring  up." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GLINTS 

She  nodded  miserably. 

"Well,  we  have  to  get  logs  to  the  mill,  and  we  can't 
get  them  with  old  John  Barleycorn  for  a  woods-boss, 
Moira.  So  we're  going  to  change  woods-bosses,  and 
the  new  woods-boss  will  not  be  driven  off  the  job, 
because  I'm  going  to  stay  up  here  a  couple  of  weeks  and 
break  him  in  myself.  By  the  way,  is  Mac  ugly  in  his 
cups?" 

"Thank  God,  no,"  she  answered  fervently.  "Drunk 
or  sober,  he  has  never  said  an  unkind  word  to  me." 

"But  how  .do  you  manage  to  get  money  to  clothe 
yourself?  Sinclair  tells  me  Mac  needs  every  cent  of 
his  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month  to  enjoy 
himself." 

"I  used  to  steal  from  him,"  the  girl  admitted.  "Then 
I  grew  ashamed  of  that,  and  for  the  past  six  months 
I've  been  earning  my  own  living.  Mr.  Sinclair  was 
very  kind.  He  gave  me  a  job  waiting  on  table  in  the 
camp  dining  room.  You  see,  I  had  to  have  something 
here.  I  couldn't  leave  my  father.  He  had  to  have 
somebody  to  take  care  of  him.  Don't  you  see,  Mr. 
Bryce?" 

"Sinclair  is  a  fuzzy  old  fool,"  Bryce  declared  with 
emphasis.  "The  idea  of  our  woods-boss's  daughter 
slinging  hash  to  lumberjacks.  Poor  Moira!" 

He  took  one  of  her  hands  in  his,  noting  the  callous 
spots  on  the  plump  palm,  the  thick  finger- joints  that 
hinted  so  of  toil,  the  nails  that  had  never  been  mani 
cured  save  by  Moira  herself.  "Do  you  remember 
when  I  was  a  boy,  Moira,  how  I  used  to  come  up  to  the 
logging-camps  to  hunt  and  fish?  I  always  lived  with 
the  McTavishes  then.  And  in  September,  when  the 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         153 

huckleberries  were  ripe,  we  used  to  go  out  and  pick 
them  together.  Poor  Moira!  Why,  we're  old  pals, 
and  I'll  be  shot  if  I'm  going  to  see  you  suffer." 

She  glanced  at  him  shyly,  with  beaming  eyes.  "You 
haven't  changed  a  bit,  Mr.  Bryce.  Not  one  little  bib! " 

"Let's  talk  about  you,  Moira.  You  went  to  school 
in  Sequoia,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  was  graduated  from  the  high  school  there. 
I  used  to  ride  the  log- trains  into  town  and  back  again." 

"Good  news!  Listen,  Moira.  I'm  going  to  fire 
your  father,  as  I've  said,  because  he's  working  for  old 
J.  B.  now,  not  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Com 
pany.  I  really  ought  to  pension  him  after  his  long 
years  in  the  Cardigan  service,  but  I'll  be  hanged  if  we 
can  afford  pensions  any  more — particularly  to  keep  a 
man  in  booze;  so  the  best  our  old  woods-boss  gets  from 
me  is  this  shanty,  or  another  like  it  when  we  move  to 
new  cuttings,  and  a  perpetual  meal -ticket  for  our  camp 
dining  room  while  the  Cardigans  remain  in  business. 
I'd  finance  him  for  a  trip  to  some  State  institution 
where  they  sometimes  reclaim  such  wreckage,  if  I 
didn't  think  he's  too  old  a  dog  to  be  taught  new  tricks." 

"Perhaps,"  she  suggested  sadly,  "you  had  better 
talk  the  matter  over  with  him." 

"  No,  I'd  rather  not.  I'm  fond  of  your  father,  Moira. 
He  was  a  man  when  I  saw  him  last — such  a  man  as 
these  woods  will  never  see  again — and  I  don't  want  to 
see  him  again  until  he's  cold  sober.  I'll  write  him  a 
letter.  As  for  you,  Moira,  you're  fired,  too.  I'll  not 
have  you  waiting  on  table  in  my  logging-camp — not 
by  a  jugful!  You're  to  come  down  to  Sequoia  and  go 
to  work  in  our  office.  We  can  use  you  on  the  books, 


154         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

helping  Sinclair,  and  relieve  him  of  the  task  of  billing, 
checking  tallies,  and  looking  after  the  pay-roll.  I'll 
pay  you  a  hundred  dollars  a  month,  Moira.  Can  you 
get  along  on  that?" 

Her  hard  hand  closed  over  his  tightly,  but  she  did 
not  speak. 

"All  right,  Moira.  It's  a  go,  then.  Hills  and 
timber — timber  and  hills — and  I'm  going  to  set  you 
free.  Perhaps  in  Sequoia  you'll  find  your  Prince 
Charming.  There,  there,  girl,  don't  cry.  We  Cardigans 
had  twenty-five  years  of  faithful  service  from  Donald 
McTavish  before  he  commenced  slipping;  after  all,  we 
owe  him  something,  I  think." 

She  drew  his  hand  suddenly  to  her  lips  and  kissed  it; 
her  hot  tears  of  joy  fell  on  it,  but  her  heart  was  too  full 
for  mere  words. 

"Fiddle-de-dee,  Moira!  Buck  up,"  he  protested, 
hugely  pleased,  but  embarrassed  withal.  "The  way 
you  take  this,  one  would  think  you  had  expected  me 
to  go  back  on  an  old  pal  and  had  been  pleasantly  sur 
prised  when  I  didn't.  Cheer  up,  Moira!  Cherries 
are  ripe,  or  at  any  rate  they  soon  will  be;  and  if  you'll 
just  cease  shedding  the  scalding  and  listen  to  me,  I'll 
tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  advance  you  two  months' 
salary  for — well,  you'll  need  a  lot  of  clothes  and  things 
in  Sequoia  that  you  don't  need  here.  And  I'm  glad 
I've  managed  to  settle  the  McTavish  hash  without 
kicking  up  a  row  and  hurting  your  feelings.  Poor  old 
Mac!  I'm  sorry  I  can't  bear  with  him,  but  we  simply 
have  to  have  the  logs,  you  know." 

He  rose,  stooped,  and  pinched  her  ear;  for  had  he  not 
known  her  since  childhood,  and  had  they  not  gathered 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         155 

huckleberries  together  in  the  long  ago?  She  was  sister 
to  him — just  another  one  of  his  problems — and  nothing 
more.  "Report  on  the  job  as  soon  as  possible,  Moira/' 
he  called  to  her  from  the  gate.  Then  the  gate  banged 
behind  him,  and  with  a  smile  and  a  debonair  wave  of 
his  hand,  he  was  striding  down  the  little  camp  street 
where  the  dogs  and  the  children  played  in  the  dust. 

After  a  while  Moira  walked  to  the  gate  and  leaning 
upon  it,  looked  down  the  street  toward  the  log-landing 
where  Bryce  was  ragging  the  laggard  crew  into  some- 
ching  like  their  old-time  speed.  Presently  the  locomo 
tive  backed  in  and  coupled  to  the  log  train,  and  when 
she  saw  Bryce  leap  aboard  and  seat  himself  on  a  top 
'og  in  such  a  position  that  he  could  not  fail  to  see  her  at 
the  gate,  she  waved  to  him.  He  threw  her  a  careless 
kiss,  and  the  train  pulled  out. 

Presently,  when  Moira  lifted  her  Madonna  glance  to 
the  frieze  of  timber  on  the  skyline,  there  was  a  new 
glory  in  her  eyes;  and  lo,  it  was  autumn  in  the  woods, 
for  over  that  hill  Prince  Charming  had  come  to  her,  and 
life  was  all  crimson  and  gold ! 

When  the  train  loaded  with  Cardigan  logs  crawled  in 
on  the  main  track  and  stopped  at  the  log-landing  in 
Pennington's  camp,  the  locomotive  uncoupled  and 
backed  in  on  the  siding  for  the  purpose  of  kicking  the 
caboose,  in  which  Shirley  and  Colonel  Pennington  had 
ridden  to  the  woods,  out  onto  the  main  line  again — 
where,  owing  to  a  slight  downhill  grade,  the  caboose, 
controlled  by  the  brakeman,  could  coast  gently  forward 
and  be  hooked  on  to  the  end  of  the  log-train  for  the 
return  journey  to  Sequoia. 

Throughout   the   afternoon   Shirley,   following   the 

t 


156         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

battle  royal  between  Bryce  and  thePennington  retainers, 
had  sat  dismally  in  the  caboose.  She  was  prey  to  many 
conflicting  emotions;  but  having  had  what  her  sex 
term  "a  good  cry,"  she  had  to  a  great  extent  recovered 
her  customary  poise — and  was  busily  speculating  on 
the  rapidity  with  which  she  could  leave  Sequoia  and 
forget  she  had  ever  met  Bryce  Cardigan — when  the 
log-train  rumbled  into  the  landing  and  the  last  of  the 
long  string  of  trucks  came  to  a  stop  directly  opposite 
the  caboose. 

Shirley  happened  to  be  looking  through  the  grimy 
caboose  window  at  that  moment.  On  the  top  log  of  the 
load  the  object  of  her  unhappy  speculations  was  seated, 
apparently  quite  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  he  was  back 
once  more  in  the  haunt  of  his  enemies,  although  knowl 
edge  that  the  double-bitted  axe  he  had  so  unceremon 
iously  borrowed  of  Colonel  Pennington  was  driven  deep 
into  the  log  beside  him,  with  the  haft  convenient  to  his 
hand,  probably  had  much  to  do  with  Bryce's  air  of 
detached  indifference.  He  was  sitting  with  his  elbows 
on  his  knees,  his  chin  in  his  cupped  bands,  and  a  pipe 
thrust  aggressively  out  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  the 
while  he  stared  moodily  at  his  feet. 

Shirley  suspected  she  knew  what  he  was  thinking  of; 
he  was  less  than  six  feet  from  her,  and  a  morbid  fasci 
nation  moved  her  to  remain  at  the  window  and  watch 
the  play  of  emotions  over  his  strong,  stern  face.  Sh? 
told  herself  that  should  he  move,  should  he  show  the 
slightest  disposition  to  raise  his  head  and  bring  his  eyes 
on  a  level  with  hers,  she  would  dodge  away  from  the 
window  in  time  to  escape  his  scrutiny. 

She  reckoned  without  the  engine.    With  a 


THE  VALLEY  OP  THE  GIANTS         157 

bump  it  struck  the  caboose  and  shunted  it  briskly  up 
the  siding;  at  the  sound  of  the  impact  Bryce  raised  his 
troubled  glance  just  in  time  to  see  Shirley's  body, 
yielding  to  the  shock,  sway  into  full  view  at  the  window. 

With  difficulty  he  suppressed  a  grin.  "I'll  bet  my 
immortal  soul  she  was  peeking  at  me,"  he  soliloquized. 
"Confound  the  luck!  Another  meeting  this  afternoon 
would  be  embarrassing."  Tactfully  he  resumed  his 
study  of  his  feet,  not  even  looking  up  when  the  caboose, 
after  gaining  the  main  track,  slid  gently  down  the  slight 
grade  and  was  coupled  to  the  rear  logging-truck.  Out 
of  the  tail  of  his  eye  he  caught  9  gJimpse  of  Colonel 
Pennington  passing  alongside  the  log-train  and  en 
tering  the  caboose;  he  heard  the  engineer  shout  to  the 
brakeman — who  had  ridden  down  from  the  head  of 
the  train  to  unlock  the  siding  switch  and  couple  the 
caboose — to  hurry  up,  lock  the  switch,  and  get  back 
aboard  the  engine. 

"  Can't  get  this  danged  key  to  turn  in  the  lock,"  the 
brakeman  shouted  presently.  "Lock's  rusty,  and 
something's  gone  bust  inside." 

Minutes  passed.  Bryce's  assumed  abstraction  be 
came  real,  for  he  had  many  matters  to  occupy  his  busy 
brain,  and  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  sit  idle  without 
adverting  to  some  of  them.  Presently  he  was  sub-( 
consciously  aware  that  the  train  was  moving  gently 
forward;  almost  immediately,  it  seemed  to  him,  the 
long  string  of  trucks  had  gathered  their  customary 
speed;  and  then  suddenly  it  dawned  upon  Bryce  that 
the  train  had  started  off  without  a  single  jerk — and  that 
it  was  gathering  headway  rapidly. 

He  looked  ahead — and  his  hair  grew  creepy  at  the 


158         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

roots.  There  was  no  locomotive  attached  to  the  train'; 
It  was  running  away  down  a  two  per  cent,  grade,  and 
because  of  the  tremendous  weight  of  the  train,  it  was 
gathering  momentum  at  a  fearful  rate. 

The  reason  for  the  runaway  dawned  on  Bryce  in 
stantly.  The  road,  being  privately  owned,  was,  like 
most  logging-roads,  neglected  as  to  roadbed  and 
rolling-stock;  also  it  was  undermanned,  and  the  brake- 
man,  who  also  acted  as  switchman,  had  failed  to  set 
the  hand-brakes  on  the  leading  truck  after  the  engineer 
had  locked  the  air-brakes.  As  a  result,  during  the  five 
or  six  minutes  required  to  "spot  in"  the  caboose,  and  an 
extra  minute  or  two  lost  while  the  brakeman  struggled 
with  the  recalcitrant  lock  on  the  switch,  the  air  had 
leaked  away  through  the  worn  valves  and  rubber 
tubing,  and  the  brakes  had  been  released — so  that  the 
train,  without  warning,  had  quietly  and  almost  noise 
lessly  slid  out  of  the  log-landing  and  started  on  its  mad 
career.  Before  the  engineer  could  beat  it  to  the  other 
switch  with  the  locomotive,  run  out  on  the  main  track, 
let  the  runaway  gradually  catch  up  with  him  and  hold 
it — no  matter  how  or  what  happened  to  him  or  his 
engine — the  first  logging-truck  had  cleared  the  switch 
and  blocked  pursuit.  There  was  nothing  to  do  now 
save  watch  the  wild  runaway  and  pray,  for  of  all  the 
mad  runaways  in  a  rnad  world,  a  loaded  logging-train  is 
by  far  the  worst. 

For  an  instant  after  realizing  his  predicament, 
Bryce  Cardigan  was  tempted  to  jump  and  take  his 
chance  on  a  few  broken  bones,  before  the  train  could 
reach  a  greater  speed  than  twenty  miles  an  hour.  His 
next  impulse  was  to  run  forward  and  set  the  hand- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         159 

brake  on  the  leading  truck,  but  a  glance  showed  him 
that  even  with  the  train  standing  still  he  could  not 
hope  to  leap  from  truck  to  truck  and  land  on  the 
round,  freshly  peeled  surface  of  the  logs  without 
slipping  for  he  had  no  calks  in  his  boots.  And  to  slip 
now  meant  swift  and  horrible  death. 

"Too  late!"  he  muttered.  "Even  if  I  could  get  to 
the  head  of  the  train,  I  couldn't  stop  her  with  the  hand 
brake;  should  I  succeed  in  locking  the  wheels,  the 
brute  would  be  doing  fifty  miles  an  hour  by  that  time — 
the  front  truck  would  slide  and  skid,  leave  the  tracks 
and  pile  up  with  me  at  the  bottom  of  a  mess  of  wrecked 
rolling-stock  and  redwood  logs." 

Then  he'  remembered.  In  the  wildly  rolling  ca 
boose  Shirley  Sumner  rode  with  her  uncle,  while  less 
than  two  miles  ahead,  the  track  swung  in  a  sharp  curve 
high  up  along  the  hillside  above  Mad  River.  Bryce 
knew  the  leading  truck  would  never  take  that  curve 
at  high  speed,  even  if  the  ancient  rolling-stock  should 
hold  together  until  the  curve  was  reached,  but  would 
shoot  off  at  a  tangent  into  the  canon,  carrying  trucks, 
logs,  and  caboose  with  it,  rolling  over  and  over  down 
the  hillside  to  the  river. 

"The  caboose  must  be  cut  out  of  this  runaway,'* 
Bryce  soliloquized,  "and  it  must  be  cut  out  in  a  devil  of 
a  hurry.  Here  goes  nothing  in  particular,  and  may 
God  be  good  to  my  dear  old  man." 

He  jerked  his  axe  out  of  the  log,  drove  it  deep  into  the 
top  log  toward  the  end,  and  by  using  the  haft  to  cling  to, 
crawled  toward  the  rear  of  the  load  and  looked  down 
at  the  caboose  coupling.  The  top  log  was  a  sixteen- 
foot  butt;  the  two  bottom  logs  were  eighteen  footers. 


160         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

With  a  silent  prayer  of  thanks  to  Providence,  Bryce 
slid  down  to  the  landing  thus  formed.  He  was  still 
five  feet  above  the  coupling,  however;  but  by  leaning 
over  the  swaying,  bumping  edge  and  swinging  the  axe 
with  one  hand,  he  managed  to  cut  through  the  rubber 
hose  on  the  air  connection.  "  The  blamed  thing  might 
hold  and  drag  the  caboose  along  after  I've  pulled  out 
the  coupling-pin,"  he  reflected.  "And  I  can't  afford 
to  take  chances  now." 

Nevertheless  he  took  them.  Axe  in  hand,  he  leaped 
down  to  the  narrow  ledge  formed  by  the  bumper  in 
front  of  the  caboose — driving  his  face  into  the  front 
of  the  caboose;  and  he  only  grasped  the  steel  rod  leading 
from  the  brake-chains  to  the  wheel  on  the  roof  in  time 
to  avoid  falling  half  stunned  between  the  front  of 
the  caboose  and  the  rear  of  the  logging-truck.  The 
caboose  had  once  been  a  box-car;  hence  there  was 
no  railed  front  platform  to  which  Bryce  might  have 
leaped  in  safety.  Clinging  perilously  on  the  bumper, 
he  reached  with  his  foot,  got  his  toe  under  the  lever  on 
the  side,  jerked  it  upward,  and  threw  the  pin  out  of  the 
coupling;  then  with  his  free  hand  he  swung  the  axe  and 
drove  the  great  steel  jaws  of  the  coupling  apart. 

The  caboose  was  cut  out!  But  already  the  deadly 
curve  was  in  sight;  in  two  minutes  the  first  truck  would 
reach  it;  and  the  caboose,  though  cut  loose,  had  to  be 
stopped,  else  with  the  headway  it  had  gathered,  it,  too, 
would  follow  the  logging-trucks  to  glory. 

For  a  moment  Bryce  clung  to  the  brake-rod,  weak 
and  dizzy  from  the  effects  of  the  blow  when,  leaping 
down  from  the  loaded  truck  to  the  caboose  bumper, 
his  face  had  smashed  into  the  front  of  the  caboose. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         161 

His  chin  was  bruised,  skinned,  and  bloody;  his  nose  had 
been  broken,  and  twin  rivulets  of  blood  ran  from  his 
nostrils.  He  wiped  it  away,  swung  his  axe,  drove  the 
blade  deep  into  the  bumper  and  left  it  there  with  the 
haft  quivering;  turning,  he  climbed  swiftly  up  the 
narrow  iron  ladder  beside  the  brake-rod  until  he  reached 
the  roof;  then,  still  standing  on  the  ladder,  he  reached 
the  brake-wheel  and  drew  it  promptly  but  gradually 
around  until  the  wheel-blocks  began  to  bite,  when  he 
exerted  his  tremendous  strength  to  the  utmost  and 
with  his  knees  braced  doggedly  against  the  front  of  the 
caboose,  held  the  wheel. 

The  brake  screamed,  but  the  speed  of  the  caboose  was 
not  appreciably  slackened.  "  It's  had  too  good  a  start !" 
Bryce  moaned.  "The  momentum  is  more  than  I  can 
overcome.  Oh,  Shirley,  my  love !  God  help  you ! " 

He  cast  a  sudden  despairing  look  over  his  shoulder 
downward  at  the  coupling.  He  was  winning,  after  all, 
for  a  space  of  six  feet  now  yawned  between  the  end  of 
the  logging-truck  and  the  bumper  of  the  caboose.  If 
he  could  but  hold  that  tremendous  strain  on  the  wheel 
for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  he  might  get  the  demon  caboose 
under  control!  Again  he  dug  his  knees  into  the  front 
of  the  car  and  twisted  on  the  wheel  until  it  seemed  that 
his  muscles  must  crack. 

After  what  seemed  an  eon  of  waiting,  he  ventured 
another  look  ahead.  The  rear  logging-truck  was  a 
hundred  yards  in  front  of  him  now,  and  from  the  wheels 
of  the  caboose  an  odour  of  something  burning  drifted 
up  to  him.  "I've  got  your  wheels  locked!"  he  half 
sobbed.  "I'll  hold  you  yet,  you  brute.  Slide! 
That's  it!  Slide,  and  flatten  your  infernal  wheels. 


162         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Hah !     You're  quitting — quitting.     I'll  have  you  in  con 
trol  before  we  reach  the  curve.     Burn,  curse  you,  burn ! '" 

With  a  shriek  of  metal  scraping  metal,  the  head  of 
the  Juggernaut  ahead  took  the  curve,  clung  there  an 
instant,  and  was  catapulted  out  into  space.  Logs 
weighing  twenty  tons  were  flung  about  like  kindling; 
one  instant,  Bryce  could  see  them  in  the  air;  the  next 
they  had  disappeared  down  the  hillside.  A  deafening 
crash,  a  splash,  a  cloud  of  dust 

With  a  protesting  squeal,  the  caboose  came  to  the 
point  where  the  logging-train  had  left  the  right  of  way, 
carrying  rails  and  ties  with  it.  The  wheels  on  the  side 
nearest  the  bank  slid  into  the  dirt  first  and  plowed  deep 
into  the  soil;  the  caboose  came  to  an  abrupt  stop, 
trembled  and  rattled,  overtopped  its  centre  of  gravity, 
and  fell  over  against  the  cut-bank,  wearily,  like  a 
drunken  hag. 

Bryce,  still  clinging  to  the  brake,  was  fully  braced  for 
the  shock  and  was  not  flung  off.  Calmly  he  descended 
the  ladder,  recovered  the  axe  from  the  bumper,  climbed 
back  to  the  roof,  tiptoed  off  the  roof  to  the  top  of  the 
bank  and  sat  calmly  down  under  a  manzanita  bush  to 
await  results,  for  he  was  quite  confident  that  none 
of  the  occupants  of  the  confounded  caboose  had  been 
treated  to  anything  worse  than  a  wild  ride  and  a  rare 
fright,  and  he  was  curious  to  see  how  Shirley  Sumner 
would  behave  in  an  emergency. 

Colonel  Pennington  was  first  to  emerge  at  the  rear 
of  the  caboose.  He  leaped  lightly  down  the  steps,  ran 
to  the  front  of  the  car,  looked  down  the  track,  and  swore 
feelingly.  Then  he  darted  back  to  the  rear  of  the 
caboose. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         163 

"All  clear  and  snug  as  a  bug  under  a  chip,  my  dear/5 
[he  called  to  Shirley.  "Thank  God,  the  caboose  be 
came  uncoupled — guess  that  fool  brakeman  forgot  to 
drop  the  pin;  it  was  the  last  car,  and  when  it  jumped 
the  track  and  plowed  into  the  dirt,  it  just  naturally 
quit  and  toppled  over  against  the  bank.  Come  out, 
my  dear." 

Shirley  came  out,  dry-eyed,  but  white  and  trembling. 
The  Colonel  placed  his  arm  around  her,  and  she  hid 
her  face  on  his  shoulder  and  shuddered.  "  There,  there !" 
he  soothed  her  affectionately.  "It's  all  over,  my  dear. 
All's  well  that  ends  well." 

"The  train,"  she  cried  in  a  choking  voice.  "Where 
is  it?" 

"In  little  pieces — down  in  Mad  River."  He  laughed 
happily.  "And  the  logs  weren't  even  mine!  As  for 
the  trucks,  they  were  a  lot  of  ratty  antiques  and  only 
fit  to  haul  Cardigan's  logs.  About  a  hundred  yards  of 
roadbed  ruined — that's  the  extent  of  my  loss,  for  I'd 
charged  off  the  trucks  to  profit  and  loss  two  years  ago." 

" Bryce  Cardigan,"  she  sobbed.  "I  saw  him — he  was 
riding  a  top  log  on  the  train.  He — ah,  God  help  him ! " 

The  Colonel  shook  her  with  sudden  ferocity. 
"Young  Cardigan,"  he  cried  sharply.  "Riding  the 
logs  ?  Are  you  certain  ? ' ' 

She  nodded,  and  her  shoulders  shook  piteously. 

"Then  Bryce  Cardigan  is  gone!"  Pennington's 
pronouncement  was  solemn,  deadly  with  its  flat  finality. 
"No  man  could  have  rolled  down  into  Mad  River  with 
a  trainload  of  logs  and  survived.  The  devil  himself 
couldn't."  He  heaved  a  great  sigh,  and  added:  "Well, 
that  clears  the  atmosphere  considerably,  although  for 


164         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

all  his  faults,  I  regret,  for  his  father's  sake,  that  this 
dreadful  affair  has  happened.  Well,  it  can't  be 
helped,  Shirley.  Don't  cry,  my  dear.  I  know  it's 
terrible,  but — there,  there  my  love.  Do  brace  up. 
Poor  devil!  For  all  his  damnable  treatment  of  me, 
I  wouldn't  have  had  this  happen  for  a  million  dollars." 

Shirley  burst  into  wild  weeping.  Bryce's  heart 
leaped,  for  he  understood  the  reason  for  her  grief. 
She  had  sent  him  away  in  anger,  and  he  had  gone  to 
his  death;  ergo  it  would  be  long  before  Shirley  would 
forgive  herself.  Bryce  had  not  intended  presenting 
himself  before  her  in  his  battered  and  bloody  condition, 
but  the  sight  of  her  distress  now  was  more  than  he 
cculd  bear.  He  coughed  slightly,  and  the  alert  Colonel 
glanced  up  at  him  instantly. 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged!"  The  words  fell  from  Pen- 
ning ton's  lips  with  a  heartiness  that  was  almost  touch 
ing.  "  I  thought  you'd  gone  with  the  train." 

"Sorry  to  have  disappointed  you,  old  top,"  Bryce 
replied  blithely,  "but  I'm  just  naturally  stubborn. 
Too  bad  about  the  atmosphere  you  thought  cleared  a 
moment  ago !  It's  clogged  worse  than  ever  now." 

At  the  sound  of  Bryce's  voice,  Shirley  raised  her 
head,  whirled  and  looked  up  at  him.  He  held  his 
handkerchief  over  his  gory  face  that  the  sight  might 
not  distress  her;  he  could  have  whooped  with  delight 
at  the  joy  that  flashed  through  her  wet  lids. 

"Bryce  Cardigan,"  she  commanded  sternly,  "come 
down  here  this  instant." 

"I'm  not  a  pretty  sight,  Shirley.  Better  let  me  go 
about  my  business." 

She  stamped  her  foot.     * '  Come  here ! " 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         165 

"Well,  since  you  insist,"  lie  replied,  and  he  slid  down 
the  bank. 

"How  did  you  get  up  there — and  what  do  you  meau 
by  hiding  there  spying  on  me,  you — you — oh,  you!" 

"Cuss  a  little,  if  it  will  help  any,"  he  suggested. 
"I  had  to  get  out  of  your  way — out  of  your  sight — and 
up  there  was  the  best  place.  I  was  on  the  roof  of  the 
caboose  when  it  toppled  over,  so  all  I  had  to  do  was  step 
ashore  and  sit  down." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  stay  there?"  she  demanded 
furiously. 

"You  [wouldn't  let  me,"  he  answered  demurely. 
"And  when  I  saw  you  weeping  because  I  was  supposed 
to  be  with  the  angels,  I  couldn't  help  coughing  to  let 
you  know  I  was  still  hanging  around,  ornery  as  a  book- 
agent." 

"How  did  you  ruin  your  face,  Mr.  Cardigan?" 

"Tried  to  take  a  cast  of  the  front  end  of  the  caboose 
in  my  classic  countenance — that's  all." 

"  But  you  were  riding  the  top  log  on  the  last  truck " 

"Certainly,  but  I  wasn't  hayseed  enough  to  stay 
there  until  we  struck  this  curve.  I  knew  exactly  what 
was  going  to  happen,  so  I  climbed  down  to  the  bumper 
of  the  caboose,  uncoupled  it  from  the  truck,  climbed  up 
yn  the  roof,  and  managed  to  get  the  old  thing  under 
control  with  the  hand-brake;  then  I  skedaddled  up  into 

the  brush  because  I  knew  you  were  inside,  and By 

ihe  way,  Colonel  Pennington,  here  is  your  axe,  which  I 
borrowed  this  afternoon.  Much  obliged  for  its  use. 
The  last  up-train  is  probably  waiting  on  the  siding  at 
Freshwater  to  pass  the  late  lamented;  consequently  a 
walk  of  about  a  mile  will  bring  you  a  means  of  trans- 


166         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

portation  back  to  Sequoia.  Walk  leisurely — you  have 
lots  of  time.  As  for  myself,  I'm  in  a  hurry,  and  my 
room  is  more  greatly  to  be  desired  than  my  company, 
so  I'll  start  now." 

He  lifted  his  hat,  turned,  and  walked  briskly  down 
the  ruined  track. 

Shirley  made  a  little  gesture  of  dissent,  half  opened 
her  lips  to  call  him  back,  thought  better  of  it,  and  let  him 
go.  When  he  was  out  of  sight,  it  dawned  on  her  that 
lie  had  risked  his  life  to  save  hers. 

"Uncle  Seth,"  she  said  soberly,  "what  would  have 
happened  to  us  if  Bryce  Cardigan  had  not  come  up 
here  to-day  to  thrash  your  woods-boss?" 

"We'd  both  be  in  Kingdom  Come  now,"  he  answered 
truthfully. 

"Under  the  circumstances,  then,"  Shirley  continued, 
"suppose  we  all  agree  to  forget  that  anything  unusual 
happened  to-day " 

"I  bear  the  young  man  no  ill  will,  Shirley,  but  before 
you  permit  yourself  to  be  carried  away  by  the  splendour 
of  his  action  in  cutting  out  the  caboose  and  getting  it 
under  control,  it  might  be  well  to  remember  that  his 
own  precious  hide  was  at  stake  also.  He  would  have 
cut  the  caboose  out  even  if  you  and  I  had  not  been  in 
it." 

"No,  he  would  not,"  she  insisted,  for  the  thought 
that  he  had  done  it  for  her  sake  was  very  sweet  to  her 
and  would  persist.  "  Cooped  up  in  the  caboose,  we  did 
not  know  the  train  was  running  away  until  it  was  too 
late  for  us  to  jump,  while  Bryce  Cardigan,  riding  out  OD 
the  logs,  must  have  known  it  almost  immediately.  He 
would  have  had  time  to  jump  before  the  runaway 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         167 

gathered  too  much  headway — and  he  would  have 
jumped,  Uncle  Seth,  for  his  father's  sake." 

"Well,  he  certainly  didn't  stay  for  mine,  Shirley." 

She  dried  her  moist  eyes  and  blushed  furiously. 
"Uncle  Seth,"  she  pleaded,  taking  him  lovingly  by 
the  arm,  "let's  be  friends  with  Bryce  Cardigan;  let's 
get  together  and  agree  on  an  equitable  contract  for 
freighting  his  logs  over  our  road." 

"You  are  now,"  he  replied  severely,  "mixing  senti 
ment  and  business;  if  you  persist,  the  result  will  be 
chaos.  Cardigan  has  in  a  large  measure  squared  him 
self  for  his  ruffianly  conduct  earlier  in  the  day,  and  I'll 
forgive  him  and  treat  him  with  courtesy  hereafter;  but 
I  want  you  to  understand,  Shirley,  that  such  treatment 
by  me  does  not  constitute  a  lice'nse  for  that  fellow  to 
crawl  up  in  my  lap  and  be  petted.  He  is  practically  a 
pauper  now,  which  makes  him  a  poor  business  risk,  and 
you'll  please  me  greatly  by  leaving  him  severely  alone — 
by  making  him  keep  his  distance." 

"I'll  not  do  that,"  she  answered  with  a  quiet  finality 
that  caused  her  uncle  to  favour  her  with  a  quick, 
searching  glance. 

He  need  not  have  worried,  however,  for  Bryce  Car 
digan  was  too  well  aware  of  his  own  financial  condition 
to  risk  the  humiliation  of  asking  Shirley  Sumner  to 
share  it  with  him.  Moreover,  he  had  embarked  upon  a 
war — a  war  which  he  meant  to  fight  to  a  finish. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

GEORGE  SEA  OTTER,  summoned  by  telephone, 
came  out  to  Freshwater,  the  station  nearest  the 
wreck,  and  transported  his  battered  young 
master  back  to  Sequoia.  Here  Bryce  sought  the 
doctor  in  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company's 
little  hospital  and  had  his  wrecked  nose  reorganized  and 
his  cuts  bandaged.  It  was  characteristic  of  his  father's 
son  that  when  this  detail  had  been  attended  to,  he  should 
goto  the  office  and  work  until  the  six  o'clock  whistle  blew. 
Old  Cardigan  was  waiting  for  him  at  the  gate  when 
he  reached  home.  George  Sea  Otter  had  already  given 
the  old  man  a  more  or  less  garbled  account  of  the  runa 
way  log-train,  and  Cardigan  eagerly  awaited  his  son's 
arrival  in  order  to  ascertain  the  details  of  this  new 
disaster  which  had  come  upon  them  For  dis 
aster  it  was,  in  truth.  The  loss  of  the  logs  was 
trifling — perhaps  three  or  four  thousand  dollars;  the 
destruction  of  the  rolling-stock  was  the  crowning 
misfortune.  Both  Cardigans  knew  that  Pennington 
would  eagerly  seize  upon  this  point  to  stint  his  com 
petitor  still  further  on  logging-equipment,  that  there 
would  be  delays — purposeful  but  apparently  unavoid 
able — before  this  lost  rolling-stock  would  be  replaced. 
And  in  the  interim  the  Cardigan  mill,  unable  to  get  a 
sufficient  supply  of  logs  to  fill  orders  in  hand,  would  be 
forced  to  close  down.  Full  well  Pennington  knew  that 

168 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         169 

anything  which  tends  to  bring  about  a  shortage  of 
raw  material  for  any  manufacturing  plant  will  result 
inevitably  in  the  loss  of  customers. 

"Well,  son,"  said  John  Cardigan  mildly  as  Bryce  un 
latched  the  gate,  "another  bump,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir — right  on  the  nose." 

"I  meant  another  bump  to  your  heritage,  my  son." 

"I'm  worrying  more  about  my  nose,  partner.  In 
fact,  I'm  not  worrying  about  my  heritage  at  all.  I've 
come  to  a  decision  on  that  point:  We're  going  to  fight 
and  fight  to  the  last;  we're  going  down  fighting.  And 
by  the  way,  I  started  the  fight  this  afternoon.  I 
whaled  the  wadding  out  of  that  bucko  woods-boss  of 
Pennington's,  and  as  a  special  compliment  to  you,  John 
Cardigan,  I  did  an  almighty  fine  job  of  cleaning.  Even 
*^ent  so  far  as  to  muss  the  Colonel  up  a  little." 

"Wow,  wow,  Bryce!  Bully  for  you!  I  wanted  that 
man  Rondeau  taken  apart.  He  has  terrorized  our 
woods-men  for  a  long  time.  He's  king  of  the  mad- 
train,  you  know." 

Bryce  was  relieved.  His  father  did  not  know,  then, 
of  the  act  of  vandalism  in  the  Valley  of  the  Giants. 
This  fact  strengthened  Bryce's  resolve  not  to  tell  him 
— also  to  get  the  fallen  monarch  sawed  up  and  the 
stump  blasted  out  before  an  operation  should  restore  his 
father's  sight  and  reveal  to  him  the  crowning  cruelty  of 
his  enemy. 

Arm  in  arm  they  walked  up  the  garden  path  together. 

Just  as  they  entered  the  house,  the  telephone  in  the 
hall  tinkled,  and  Bryce  answered. 

"Mr.  Cardigan,"  came  Shirley  Sumner's  voice  over 
the  wire. 


170        THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Bryce,"  lie  corrected  her. 

She  ignored  the  correction. 

"I — I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you,"  she  faltered* 

"There  is  no  necessity  for  saying  anything,  Shirley." 

"But  you  saved  our  lives,  and  at  least  have  a  right 
to  expect  due  and  grateful  acknowledgment  of  our 
debt.  I  rang  up  to  tell  you  how  splendid  and  heroic 
your  action  was " 

"I  had  my  own  life  to  save,  Shirley." 
I"  You  did  not  think  of  that  at  the  time." 

"Well — I  didn't  think  of  your  uncle's,  either,"  he 
replied  without  enthusiasm. 

"I'm  sure  we  never  can  hope  to  catch  even  with 
you,  Mr.  Cardigan." 

"Don't  try.  Your  revered  relative  will  not;  so  why 
should  you?" 

"You  are  making  it  somewhat  hard  for  me  to — to — 
rehabilitate  our  friendship,  Mr.  Cardigan.  We  have 
just  passed  through  a  most  extraordinary  day,  and  if 
at  evening  I  can  feel  as  I  do  now,  I  think  you  ought  to 
do  your  share — and  help." 

"Bless  your  heart,"  he  murmured.  "The  very 
fact  that  you  bothered  to  ring  me  up  at  all  makes  me 
your  debtor.  Shirley,  can  you  stand  some  plain 
speaking — between  friends,  I  mean?" 

"I  think  so,  Mr.  Cardigan." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Bryce,  "listen  to  this:  I  am 
your  uncle's  enemy  until  death  do  us  part.  Neither  he 
nor  I  expect  to  ask  or  to  give  quarter,  and  I'm  going  to 
smash  him  if  I  can." 

"If  you  do,  you  smash  me,"  she  warned  him. 

"Likewise  our  friendship.     I'm  sorry,  but  it's  got 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         171 

to  be  done  if  I  can  do  it.  Shall — shall  we  say  good-bye, 
Shirley?" 

"  Yes-s-s ! "  There  was  a  break  in  her  voice.  "  Good 
bye,  Mr  Cardigan.  I  wanted  you  to  know." 

"Good-bye!  Well,  that's  cutting  the  mustard,"  he 
murmured  sotto  voce,  "and  there  goes  another  bright 
day-dream."  Unknown  to  himself,  he  spoke  directly 
into  the  transmitter,  and  Shirley,  clinging  half  hope^ 
fully  to  the  receiver  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire,  heard 
him — caught  every  inflection  of  the  words,  common^ 
place  enough,  but  freighted  with  the  pathos  of  Bryce's 
first  real  tragedy. 

"Oh,  Bryce!"  she  cried  sharply.  But  he  did  not 
hear  her;  he  had  hung  up  his  receiver  now. 

The  week  that  ensued  was  remarkable  for  the 
amount  of  work  Bryce  accomplished  in  the  investi 
gation  of  his  father's  affairs — also  for  a  visit  from 
Donald  McTavish,  the  woods-boss.  Bryce  found 
him  sitting  in  the  private  office  one  morning  at  seven 
o'clock. 

"Hello,  McTavish,"  he  saluted  the  woods-boss  cheer 
fully  and  extended  his  hand  for  a  cordial  greeting. 
His  wayward  employee  stood  up,  took  the  proffered 
hand  in  both  of  his  huge  and  callous  ones,  and  held  it 
rather  childishly. 

"Woel!  'Tis  the  wee  laddie  hissel',"  he  boomed. 
"I'm  glad  to  see  ye,  boy." 

"You'd  have  seen  me  the  day  before  yesterday — 
if  you  had  been  seeable,"  Bryce  reminded  him  with 
a  bright  smile.  "Mac,  old  man,  they  tell  me  you've 
gotten  to  be  a  regular  go-to-hell." 

"I'll  nae  deny  I  take  a  wee  drappie  now  an'  then," 


172         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

the  woods-boss  admitted  frankly,  albeit  there  was  a 
harried,  hangdog  look  in  his  eyes. 

Bryce  sat  down  at  his  desk,  lighted  his  pipe,  and 
looked  McTavish  over  soberly.  The  woods-boss  was  a 
big,  raw-boned  Scotsman,  with  a  plentiful  sprinkling 
of  silver  in  his  thick  mane  of  red  hair,  which  fell  far 
down  on  his  shoulders.  A  tremendous  nose  rose  ma 
jestically  out  of  a  face  so  strong  and  rugged  one  searched 
in  vain  for  aught  of  manly  beauty  in  it;  his  long  arms 
hung  gorilla-like,  almost  to  his  knees,  and  he  was 
slightly  stooped,  as  if  from  bearing  heavy  burdens. 
Though  in  the  late  fifties,  his  years  had  touched  him 
lightly;  but  John  Barleycorn  had  not  been  so  con 
siderate.  Bryce  noted  that  McTavish  was  carrying 
some  thirty  pounds  of  whiskey  fat  and  that  the  pupils 
of  his  fierce  blue  eyes  were  permanently  distended, 
showing  that  alcohol  had  begun  to  affect  his  brain. 
His  hands  trembled  as  he  stood  before  Bryce,  smiling 
fatuously  and  plucking  at  the  cuffs  of  his  mackinaw. 
The  latter  realized  that  McTavish  was  waiting  for  him 
to  broach  the  object  of  the  visit;  so  with  an  effort 
he  decided  to  begin  the  disagreeable  task. 

"Mac,  did  Moira  give  you  my  message?" 

"Aye." 

"  Well,  I  guess  we  understand  each  other,  Mac.  Was 
there  something  else  you  wanted  to  see  me  about?  " 

McTavish  sidled  up  to  the  desk.  "Ye'll  no  be 
firin'  auld  Mac  oot  o'  hand?"  he  pleaded  hopefully. 
"Mon,  ha  ye  the  heart  to  do  it — after  a'  these  years?" 

Bryce  nodded.  "If  you  have  the  heart — after  all 
these  years — to  draw  pay  you  do  not  earn,  then  I  have 
the  heart  to  put  a  better  man  in  your  place.'* 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         173 

"  Ye  was  ever  a  laddie  to  hae  your  bit  joke." 

"It's  no  good  arguing,  Mac.  You're  off  the  pay-roll 
onto  the  pension-roll — your  shanty  in  the  woods,  your 
meals  at  the  camp  kitchen,  your  clothing  and  tobacco 
that  I  send  out  to  you.  Neither  more  nor  less!"  He 
reached  into  his  desk  and  drew  forth  a  check.  "Here's 
your  wages  to  the  fifteenth.  It's  the  last  Cardigan 
check  you'll  ever  finger.  I'm  terribly  sorry,  but  I'm 
terribly  in  earnest." 

"Who  will  ye  pit  in  ma  place?  " 

"I  don't  know.  However,  it  won't  be  a  difficult 
task  to  find  a  better  man  than  you." 

" I'll  nae  let  him  work."  McTavish's  voice  deepened 
to  a  growl. 

"You  worked  that  racket  on  my  father.  Try  it  on 
me,  and  you'll  answer  to  me — personally.  Lay 
the  weight  of  your  finger  on  your  successor,  Mac, 
and  you'll  die  in  the  county  poor-farm.  No  threats, 
old  man!  You  know  the  Cardigans;  they  never 
bluff." 

McTavish's  glance  met  the  youthful  master's  for 
several  seconds;  then  the  woods-boss  trembled,  and  his 
gaze  sought  the  office  floor.  Bryce  knew  he  had  his 
man  whipped  at  last,  and  McTavish  realized  it,  too,  for 
quite  suddenly  he  burst  into  tears. 

"Dinna  fire  me,  lad,"  he  pleaded.  "I'll  gae  back 
on  the  job  an'  leave  whusky  alone." 

"Nothing  doing,  Mac.  Leave  whiskey  alone  for  a 
year  and  I'll  discharge  your  successor  to  give  you  back 
your  job.  For  the  present  however,  my  verdict  stands. 
You're  discharged." 

"Who  kens  the  Cardigan  woodt  as  I  ken  them?" 


174         THE  VALLEY  OP  THE  GIANT3 

McTavish  blubbered.  "Who'll  swamp  a  road  into 
timber  sixty  per  cent,  clear  when  the  mill's  runnin'  on 
foreign  orders  an'  the  owd  man's  calling  for  clear  logs? 
Who'll  fell  trees  wi'  the  least  amount  o'  breakage? 
Who'll  get  the  work  out  o'  the  men?  Who'll " 

"Don't  plead,  Mac,"  Bryce  interrupted  gently. 
"You're  quite  through,  and  I  can't  waste  any  more 
time  on  you." 

"Ye  dinna  mean  it,  lad.    Ye  canna  mean  it." 

"On  your  way,  Mac.  I  loathe  arguments.  And 
don't  forget  your  check." 

"I  maun  see  yer  faither  aboot  this.  He'll  nae  stand 
for  sic  treatment  o'  an  auld  employee." 

Bryce's  temper  flared  up.  "You  keep  away  from  mj 
father.  You've  worried  him  enough  in  the  past,  you 
drunkard.  If  you  go  up  to  the  house  to  annoy  my 
father  with  your  pleadings,  McTavish,  I'll  manhandle 
you."  He  glanced  at  his  watch.  "The  next  train 
leaves  for  the  woods  in  twenty  minutes.  If  you  do  not 
go  back  on  it  and  behave  yourself,  you  can  never  go 
back  to  Cardigan  woods." 

"I  will  nae  take  charity  from  any  man,"  McTavish 
thundered.  "I'll  nae  bother  the  owd  man,  an'  I'll 
nae  go  back  to  yon  woods  to  live  on  yer  bounty." 

"Well,  go  somewhere,  Mac,  and  be  quick  about  it. 
Only — when  you've  reformed,  please  come  back. 
You'll  be  mighty  welcome.  Until  then,  however, 
you're  as  popular  with  me — that  is,  in  a  business  way — 
as  a  wet  dog." 

"  Ye're  nae  the  man  yer  faither  was,"  the  woods-boss 
half  sobbed.  "Ye  hae  a  heart  o'  stone." 

"  You've  been  drunk  for  fifteen  days — and  I'm  paying 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         175 

you  for  it,  Mac,"  Bryce  reminded  him  gently.     "Don't 
leave  your  check  behind.     You'll  need  it." 

With  a  fine  show  of  contempt  and  rage,  McTavish 
tore  the  check  into  strips  and  threw  them  at  Bryce. 
*'I  was  never  a  mon  to  take  charity,"  he  roared  furi 
ously,  and  left  the  office.  Bryce  called  after  him  a 
cheerful  good-bye,  but  he  did  not  answer.  And  he  did 
not  remain  in  town;  neither  did  he  return  to  his  shanty 
m  the  woods.  For  a  month  his  whereabouts  remained 
a  mystery;  then  one  day  Moira  received  a  letter  from 
Mm  informing  her  that  he  had  a  job  knee-bolting  in  a 
shingle  mill  in  Mendocino  County. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IN  THE  interim  Bryce  had  not  been  idle.  Prom 
his  woods-crew  he  picked  an  old,  experienced 
hand — one  Jabez  Curtis — to  take  the  place  of  the 
vanished  McTavish.  Colonel  Pennington,  having  re 
paired  in  three  days  the  gap  in  his  railroad,  wrote  a 
letter  to  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company, 
informing  Bryce  that  until  more  equipment  could  be 
purchased  and  delivered  to  take  the  place  of  the  rolling- 
stock  destroyed  in  the  wreck,  the  latter  would  have 
to  be  content  with  half -deliveries;  whereupon  Bryce 
irritated  the  Colonel  profoundly  by  purchasing  a  lot 
of  second-hand  trucks  from  a  bankrupt  sugar-pine  mill 
in  Lassen  County  and  delivering  them  to  the  Colonel's 
road  via  the  deck  of  a  steam  schooner. 

"  That  will  insure  delivery  of  sufficient  logs  to  get  out 
our  orders  on  file,"  Bryce  informed  his  father.  "While 
we  are  morally  certain  our  mill  will  run  but  one  year 
longer,  I  intend  that  it  shall  run  full  capacity  for  that 
year.  In  fact,  I'm  going  to  saw  in  that  one  year  re 
maining  to  us  as  much  lumber  as  we  would  ordinarily 
saw  in  two  years.  To  be  exact,  I'm  going  to  run  a 
night-shift." 

The  sightless  old  man  raised  both  hands  in  depreca 
tion.  "The  market  won't  absorb  it,"  he  protested. 

"Then  we'll  stack  it  in  piles  to  air-dry  and  wait  until 
the  market  is  brisk  enough  to  absorb  it/'  Bryce  replied. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         177 

/  "Our  finances  won't  stand  the  overhead  of  that  night- 
shift,  I  tell  you,"  his  father  warned. 

"I  know  we  haven't  sufficient  cash  on  hand!  to  at 
tempt  it,  Dad?  but — I'm  going  to  borrow  some." 

"From  whom?  No  bank  in  Sequoia  will  lend  us  a 
penny,  and  long  before  you  came  home  I  had  sounded 
every  possible  source  of  a  private  loan." 

"Did  you  sound  the  Sequoia  Bank  of  Commerce?" 

"Certainly  not.  Pennington  owns  the  controlling 
interest  in  that  bank,  and  I  TV  as  never  a  man  to  waste 
my  time." 

Bryce  chuckled.  "I  don't  care  where  the  money 
comes  from  so  long  as  I  get  it,  partner.  Pennington's 
money  may  be  tainted;  in  fact,  I'd  risk  a  bet  that  it  is; 
but  our  employees  will  accept  it  for  wages  nevertheless. 
Desperate  circumstances  require  desperate  measures 
you  know,  and  the  day  before  yesterday,  when  I  wras 
quite  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  Colonel  Pennington 
controls  the  Sequoia  Bank  of  Commerce,  I  drifted  in 
on  the  president  and  casually  struck  him  for  a  loan  of 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  shot,  Bryce !     What  did  he  say?  " 

"Said  he'd  take  the  matter  under  consideration  and 
give  me  an  answer  this  morning.  He  asked  me,  of 
cc^rse,  what  I  wanted  that  much  money  for,  and  I 
told  him  I  was  going  to  run  a  night-shift,  double  my 
force  of  men  in  the  woods,  and  buy  some  more  logging- 
trucks,  which  I  can  get  rather  cheap.  Well,  this  morn 
ing  I  called  for  my  answer — and  got  it.  The  Sequoia 
Bank  of  Commerce  will  loan  me  up  to  a  hundred 
thousand,  but  it  won't  give  me  the  cash  in  ajump  sum. 
I  can  have  enough  to  buy  the  logging-trucks  now,  and 


178         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

on  the  first  of  each,  month,  when  I  present  my  pay-roll* 
the  bank  will  advance  me  the  money  to  meet  it." 

"Bryce,  I  am  amazed." 

"I  am  not — since  you  tell  me  Colonel  Pennington 
controls  that  bank.  That  the  bank  should  accommo 
date  us  is  the  (most  natural  procedure  imaginable. 
Pennington  is  only  playing  safe — which  is  why  the  bank 
declined  to  give  me  the  money  in  a  lump  sum.  If  we 
run  a  night-shift,  Pennington  knows  that  we  can't 
dispose  of  our  excess  output  under  present  market  con 
ditions.  The  redwood  trade  is  in  the  doldrums  and 
will  remain  in  them  to  a  greater  or  less  degree  until  the 
principal  redwood  centres  secure  a  rail  outlet  to  the 
markets  of  the  country.  It's  a  safe  bet  our  lumber  is 
going  to  pile  up  on  the  mill  dock;  hence,  when  the 
smash  comes  and  the  Sequoia  Bank  of  Commerce 
calls  our  loan  and  we  cannot  possibly  meet  it,  the 
lumber  on  hand  will  prove  security  for  the  loan,  will  it 
not?  In  fact,  it  will  be  worth  two  or  three  dollars  per 
thousand  more  then  than  it  is  now,  because  it  will  be 
air-dried.  And  inasmuch  as  all  the  signs  point  to 
Pennington's  gobbling  us  anyhow,  it  strikes  me  as  a 
rather  good  business  on  his  part  to  give  us  sufficient 
rope  to  insure  a  thorough  job  of  hanging." 

"But  what  idea  have  you  got  back  of  such  a  pro 
cedure,  Bryce?" 

"Merely  a  forlorn  hope,  Dad.  Something  might 
turn  up.  The  market  may  take  a  sudden  spurt  and  go 
up  three  or  four  dollars." 

"Yes — and  it  may  take  a  sudden  spurt  and  drop 
three  or  four  dollars,"  his  father  reminded  him. 

Bryce   laughed.      "That    would    be    Pennington's 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         179 

funeral,  Dad.  And  whether  the  market  goes  up  or 
comes  down,  it  costs  us  nothing  to  make  the  ex 
periment." 

"Quite  true,"  his  father  agreed. 

"Then,  if  you'll  come  down  to  the  office  to-morrow 
morning,  "Dad,  we'll  hold  a  meeting  of  our  board  of 
directors  and  authorize  me,  as  president  of  the  com 
pany,  to  sign  the  note  to  the  bank.  We're  borrowing 
this  without  collateral,  you  know." 

John  Cardigan  sighed.  Such  daring  financial  acro 
batics  were  not  usual  with  him,  but  as  Bryce  had  re 
marked  there  was  no  reason  why,  in  their  present 
predicament,  they  should  not  gamble.  Hence  he 
entered  no  further  objection,  and  the  following  day 
the  agreement  was  entered  into  with  the  bank.  Bryce 
closed  by  wire  for  the  extra  logging-equipment  and 
immediately  set  about  rounding  up  a  crew  for  the 
woods  and  for  the  night-shift  in  the  mill. 

For  a  month  Bryce  was  as  busy  as  the  proverbial 
one-armed  paper-hanger  with  the  itch,  and  during  all 
that  time  he  did  not  see  Shirley  Sumner  or  hear  of  her, 
directly  or  indirectly.  Only  at  infrequent  intervals  did 
he  permit  himself  to  think  of  her,  for  he  was  striving  to 
forget,  and  the  memory  of  his  brief  glimpse  of  paradise 
was  always  provocative  of  pain. 

Moira  McTavish,  in  the  meantime,  had  come  down 
from  the  woods  and  entered  upon  her  duties  in  the  mill 
office.  The  change  from  her  dull,  drab  life,  giving  her, 
as  it  did,  an  opportunity  for  companionship  with  people 
of  greater  mentality  and  refinement  than  she  had  been 
used  to,  quickly  brought  about  a  swift  transition  in  the 
girl's  nature.  With  the  passing  of  the  coarse  shoes  and 


180         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

calico  dresses  and  the  substitution  of  the  kind  of  cloth 
ing  all  women  of  Moira's  instinctive  refinement  and 
natural  beauty  long  for,  the  girl  became  cheerful, 
animated,  and  imbued  with  the  optimism  of  her  years. 
At  first  old  Sinclair  resented  the  advent  of  a  woman 
in  the  office;  then  he  discovered  that  Moira's  efforts 
lightened  his  own  labours  in  exact  proportion  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  business  which  she  assimilated  from 
day  to  day. 

Moira  worked  in  the  general  office,  and  except  upon 
occasions  when  Bryce  desired  to  look  at  the  books  or 
Moira  brought  some  document  into  the  private  office 
for  his  perusal,  there  were  days  during  which  his  pleasant 
"Good  morning,  Moira,"  constituted  the  extent  of  their 
conversation.  To  John  Cardigan,  however,  Moira  was  a 
ministering  angel.  Gradually  she  relieved  Bryce  of  the 
care  of  the  old  man.  She  made  a  cushion  for  his  easy- 
chair  in  the  office;  she  read  the  papers  to  him,  and  the 
correspondence,  and  discussed  with  him  the  receipt  and 
delivery  of  orders,  the  movements  of  the  lumber-fleet, 
the  comedies  and  tragedies  of  his  people,  which  had 
become  to  him  matters  of  the  utmost  importance. 
She  brushed  his  hair,  dusted  his  hat,  and  crowned  him 
with  it  when  he  left  the  office  at  nightfall,  and  whenever 
Bryce  was  absent  in  the  woods  or  in  San  Francisco,  it 
f cM  to  her  lot  to  lead  the  old  man  to  and  from  the  house 
on  the  hill.  To  his  starved  heart  her  sweet  womanly 
attentions  were  tremendously  welcome,  and  gradually 
he  formed  the  habit  of  speaking  of  her,  half  tenderly, 
half  jokingly,  as  "my  girl." 

Bryce  had  been  absent  in  San  Francisco  for  ten  days. 
He  had  planned  to  stay  three  weeks,  but  finding  his 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         181 

business  consummated  in  less  time,  he  returned  to 
Sequoia  unexpectedly.  Moira  was  standing  at  the  tall 
bookkeeping  desk,  her  beautiful  dark  heac!  bent  over 
the  ledger,  when  he  entered  the  office  and  set  his  suit 
case  in  the  corner. 

"Is  that  you,  Mr.  Bryce?"  she  queried. 

"The  identical  individual,  Moira.  How  did  you 
guess  it  was  I?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  then,  and  her  wonderful  dark 
eyes  lighted  with  a  flame  Bryce  had  not  seen  in  them 
heretofore.  "I  knew  you  were  coming,"  she  replied 
simply. 

"But  how  could  you  know?  I  didn't  telegraph 
because  I  wanted  to  surprise  my  father,  and  the  in 
stant  the  boat  touched  the  dock,  I  went  overside  and 
came  directly  here.  I  didn't  even  wait  for  the  crew 
to  run  out  the  gangplank — so  I  know  nobody  could 
have  told  you  I  was  due." 

"That  is  quite  right,  Mr.  Bryce.  Nobody  told  me 
you  were  coming,  but  I  just  knew,  when  I  heard  the 
Noyo  whistling  as  she  made  the  dock,  that  you  were 
aboard,  and  I  didn't  look  up  when  you  entered  the  office 
because  I  wanted  to  verify  my — my  suspicion." 

"You  had  a  hunch,  Moira.  Do  you  get  those  tele 
pathic  messages  very  often?"  He  was  crossing  the 
office  to  shake  her  hand. 

"I've  never  noticed  particularly — that  is,  until  I 
came  to  work  here.  But  I  always  know  when  you  are 
returning  after  a  considerable  absence."  She  gave 
him  her  hand.  "I'm  so  glad  you're  back." 

"Why?"  he  demanded  bluntly. 

She  flushed.     "I— I  really  don't  know,  Mr.  Bryce." 


182         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Well,  then,"  he  persisted,  "what  do  you  think 
makes  you  glad?" 

"  I  had  been  thinking  how  nice  it  would  be  to  have  you 
back,  Mr.  Bryce.  When  you  enter  the  office,  it's  like  a 
breeze  rustling  the  tops  of  the  Redwoods.  And  your 
father  misses  you  so;  he  talks  to  me  a  great  deal  about 
you.  Why,  of  course  we  miss  you;  anybody  would." 

As  he  held  her  hand,  he  glanced  down  at  it  and  noted 
how  greatly  it  had  changed  during  the  past  few  months. 
The  skin  was  no  longer  rough  and  brown,  and  the  fingers, 
formerly  stiff  and  swollen  from  hard  work,  were  growing 
more  shapely.  From  her  hand  his  glance  roved  over 
the  girl,  noting  the  improvements  in  her  dress,  and  the 
way  the  thick,  wavy  black  hair  was  piled  on  top  of  he* 
shapely  head. 

"It  hadn't  occurred  to  me  before,  Moira,"  he  said 
with  a  bright  impersonal  smile  that  robbed  his  remark 
of  all  suggestion  of  masculine  flattery,  "but  it  seems  to 
me  I'm  unusually  glad  to  see  you,  also.  You've  been 
fixing  your  hair  different." 

The  soft  lambent  glow  leaped  again  into  Moira's 
eyes.  He  had  noticed  her — particularly.  "Do  you 
like  my  hair  done  that  way?"  she  inquired  eagerly. 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  do  or  not.  It's  unusual — • 
for  you.  You  look  mighty  sweetly  old-fashioned  with 
it  coiled  in  back — somewhat  like  an  old-fashioned 
daguerreotype  of  my  mother.  Is  this  new  style  the 
latest  in  hairdressing  in  Sequoia?  " 

"I  think  so,  Mr.  Bryce.  I  copied  it  from  Colonel 
Pennington's  niece,  Miss  Sumner." 

"Oh,"  he  replied  briefly.  "You've  met  her,  have 
you?  I  didn't  know  she  was  in  Sequoia  still." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         183 

"  She's  been  away,  but  she  came  back  last  week.  I 
went  to  the  Valley  of  the  Giants  last  Saturday  after 
noon " 

Bryce  interrupted.  "You  didn't  tell  my  father 
about  the  tree  that  was  cut,  did  you?"  he  demanded 
sharply. 

"No." 

"Good  girl!  He  mustn't  know.  Go  on,  Moira. 
I  interrupted  you." 

"I  met  Miss  Simmer  up  there.  She  was  lost;  she'd 
followed  the  old  trail  into  the  timber,  and  when  the 
trees  shut  out  the  sun,  she  lost  all  sense  of  direction. 
She  was  terribly  frightened  and  crying  when  I  found 
her  and  brought  her  home." 

"Well,  I  swan,  Moira!  What  was  she  doing  in  our 
timber?" 

"She  told  me  that  once,  when  she  was  a  little  girl, 
you  had  taken  her  for  a  ride  on  your  pony  up  to  your 
mother's  grave.  And  it  seems  she  had  a  great  curiosity 
to  see  that  spot  again  and  started  out  without  saying  a 
word  to  any  one.  Poor  dear!  She  was  in  a  sad  state 
when  I  found  her." 

"How  fortunate  you  found  her!  I've  met  Miss 
Sumner  three  or  four  times.  That  was  when  she 
first  came  to  Sequoia.  She's  a  stunning  girl,  isn't 
she?" 

"Perfectly,  Mr.  Bryce.  She's  the  first  lady  I've  ever 
met.  She's  different." 

"No  doubt!  Her  kind  are  not  a  product  of  homely 
little  communities  like  Sequoia.  And  for  that  matter, 
neither  is  her  wolf  of  an  uncle.  What  did  Miss  Sumner 
iiave  to  say  to  you,  Moira?  " 


184         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"She  told  me  all  about  herself — and  she  said  a  lot  of 
nice  things  about  you,  Mr.  Bryce,  after  I  told  her  I 
worked  for  you.  And  when  I  showed  her  the  way  home, 
she  insisted  that  I  should  walk  home  with  her.  So  I 
did — and  the  butler  served  us  with  tea  and  toast  and 
marmalade.  Then  she  showed  me  all  her  wonderful 
things — and  gave  me  some  of  them.  Oh,  Mr.  Bryce, 
she's  so  sweet.  She  had  her  maid  dress  my  hair  in  half 
a  dozen  different  styles  until  they  could  decide  on  the 
right  style,  and " 

"And  that's  it— eh,  Moira?" 

She  nodded  brightly. 

"I  can  see  that  you  and  Miss  Sumner  evidently  hit  it 
off  just  right  with  each  other.  Are  you  going  to  call  ojj 
her  again?" 

"Oh,  yes!  She  begged  me  to.  She  says  she's 
lonesome." 

"I  dare  say  she  is,  Moira.  Well,  her  choice  of  a  pal 
is  a  tribute  to  the  brains  I  suspected  her  of  possessing, 
and  I'm  glad  you've  gotten  to  know  each  other.  I've 
no  doubt  you  find  life  a  little  lonely  sometimes." 

"Sometimes,  Mr.  Bryce." 

"How's  my  father?" 

"  Splendid.     I've  taken  good  care  of  him  for  you." 

"Moira,  you're  a  sweetheart  of  a  girl.  I  don't  kno^v 
how  we  ever  managed  to  wiggle  along  without  you." 
Fraternally — almost  paternally — he  gave  her  radiant 
cheek  three  light  little  pats  as  he  strode  past  her  to  the 
private  office.  He  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  his  desk, 
upon  which  he  could  see  through  the  open  door  a  pile 
of  letters  and  orders,  and  a  moment  later  he  was  deep  in 
a  perusal  of  them,  oblivious  to  the  fact  that  ever  and 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         185 

anon  the  girl  turned  upon  him  her  brooding,  Madonna- 
like  glance. 

That  night  Bryce  and  his  father,  as  was  their  custom 
after  dinner,  repaired  to  the  library,  where  the  bustling 
and  motherly  Mrs.  Tully  served  their  coffee.  This 
good  soul,  after  the  democratic  fashion  in  vogue  in 
many  Western  communities,  had  never  been  regarded 
as  a  servant;  neither  did  she  so  regard  herself.  She 
was  John  Cardigan's  housekeeper,  and  as  such  she  had 
for  a  quarter  of  a  century  served  father  and  son  their 
meals  and  then  seated  herself  at  the  table  with  them. 
This  arrangement  had  but  one  drawback,  although 
this  did  not  present  itself  until  after  Bryce's  return  to 
Sequoia  and  his  assumption  of  the  direction  of  the 
Cardigan  destinies.  For  Mrs.  Tully  had  a  failing 
common  to  many  of  her  sex:  she  possessed  for  other 
people's  business  an  interest  absolutely  incapable 
of  satisfaction — and  she  was,  in  addition,  garru 
lous  beyond  belief.  The  library  was  the  one  spot 
in  the  house  which  at  the  beginning  of  her  employ 
ment  John  Cardigan  had  indicated  to  Mrs.  Tully 
as  sanctuary  for  him  and  his;  hence,  having  served  the 
cofTee  this  evening,  the  amiable  creature  withdrew, 
although  not  without  a  pang  as  she  reflected  upon  the 
probable  nature  of  their  conversation  and  the  void  which 
must  inevitably  result  by  reason  of  the  absence  of  her 
advice  and  friendly  cooperation  and  sympathy. 

No  sooner  had  Mrs.  Tully  departed  than  Bryce  rose 
and  closed  the  door  behind  her.  John  Cardigan  opened 
the  conversation  with  a  contented  grunt: 

"Plug  the  keyhole,  son,"  he  continued.  "I  believe 
you  have  something  on  your  mind — and  you  know  hew 


188         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Mrs.  Tully  resents  the  closing  of  that  door.  Estimable 
soul  that  she  is,  I  have  known  her  to  eavesdrop.  She 
can't  help  it,  poor  thing !  She  was  born  that  way." 

Bryce  clipped  a  cigar  and  held  a  lighted  match  while 
his  father  "smoked  up."  Then  he  slipped  into  the 
easy-chair  beside  the  old  man. 

"Well,  John  Cardigan,"  he  began  eagerly,  "fate 
ripped  a  big  hole  in  our  dark  cloud  the  other  day  and 
showed  me  some  of  the  silver  lining.  I've  been  making 
bad  medicine  for  Colonel  Pennington.  Partner,  thd 
pill  I'm*  rolling  for  that  scheming  scoundrel  will  surely 
nauseate  him  when  he  swallows  it." 

"What's  in  the  wind,  boy?" 

"We're  going  to  parallel  Pennington's  logging-road." 

"Inasmuch  as  that  will  cost  close  to  three  quarters  of  a 
million  dollars,  I'm  of  the  opinion  that  we're  not  going 
to  do  anything  of  the  sort." 

"Perhaps.  Nevertheless,  if  I  can  demonstrate  to  a 
certain  party  that  it  will  not  cost  more  than  three 
quarters  of  a  million,  he'll  loan  me  the  money." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  believe  it, 
Bryce.  Who's  the  crazy  man?" 

"His  name  is  Gregory.     He's  Scotch." 

"Now  I  know  he's  crazy.  When  he  hands  you  the 
money,  you'll  find  he's  talking  real  money  but  thinking 
of  Confederate  greenbacks.  For  a  sane  Scotchman 
to  loan  that  much  money  without  collateral  security 
would  be  equivalent  to  exposing  his  spinal  cord  and 
tickling  it  with  a  rat-tail  file." 

Bryce  laughed.  "Pal,"  he  declared,  "if  you  and  I 
have  any  brains,  they  must  roll  around  in  our  skulls 
Mke  buckshot  in  a  tin  pan.  Here  we've  been  sitting  for 


We  have  one  alternative,  and  I'm  going  to  take  it.     I'm 
going  to  sell  Pennington  my  Valley  of  the  Giants ' ' 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         187 

three  months,  and  twiddling  our  thumbs,  or  lying 
awake  nights  trying  to  scheme  a  way  out  of  our  diffi 
culties,  when  if  we'd  had  the  sense  that  God  gives  geese 
we  would  have  solved  the  problem  long  ago  and  ceased 
worrying.  Listen,  now,  with  all  your  ears.  When  Bill 
Henderson  wanted  to  build  the  logging  railroad  which 
he  afterward  sold  to  Pennington,  and  which  Pennington 
is  now  using  as  a  club  to  beat  our  brains  out,  did  he  have 
the  money  to  build  it?" 


€6  Where  did  he  get  it?" 

"I  loaned  it  to  him.  He  only  had  about  eight  miles 
of  road  to  build  then,  so  I  could  afford  to  accommodate 
him.9' 

"How  did  he  pay  you  back?" 

"Why,  he  gave  me  a  ten-year  contract  for  hauling 
our  logs  at  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  thousand  feet,  and  I 
merely  credited  his  account  with  the  amount  of  the 
freight-bills  he  sent  me  until  he'd  squared  up  the  loan, 
principal  and  interest." 

"Well,  if  Bill  Henderson  financed  himself  on  that 
plan,  why  didn't  we  think  of  using  the  same  time- 
honoured  plan  for  financing  a  road  to  parallel  Pen- 
nington's?" 

John  Cardigan  sat  up  with  a  jerk.  "By  thunder!" 
he^murmured.  That  was  as  close  as  he  ever  came  to 
uttering  an  oath.  "By  thunder!"  he  repeated.  "I 
never  thought  of  that!  But  then,"  he  added,  "I'm 
not  so  young  as  I  used  to  be,  and  there  are  any  number 
of  ideas  which  would  have  occurred  to  me  twenty  years 
ago  but  do  not  occur  to  me  now," 

"All  right,  John  Cardigan.    I  forgive  you.     Now, 


188         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

then,  continue  to  listen:  to  the  north  of  that  great  block 
of  timber  held  by  you  and  Pennington  lie  the  redwood 
holdings  of  the  Trinidad  Redwood  Timber  Company." 

"Never  heard  of  them  before." 

"Well,  timber  away  in  there  in  back  of  beyond  has 
never  been  well  advertised,  because  it  is  regarded  as 
practically  inaccessible.  By  extending  his  logging-road 
and  adding  to  his  rolling-stock,  Pennington  could  make 
it  accessible,  but  he  will  not.  He  figures  on  buying 
all  that  back  timber  rather  cheap  when  he  gets  around 
to  it,  for  the  reason  that  the  Trinidad  Redwood  Timber 
Company  cannot  possibly  mill  its  timber  until  a  railroad 
connects  its  holdings  with  the  outside  world.  They 
can  hold  it  until  their  corporation  franchise  expires, 
and  it  will  not  increase  sufficiently  in  value  to  pay 
taxes." 

"I  wonder  why  the  blamed  fools  ever  bought  in 
there,  Bryce." 

"When  they  bought,  it  looked  like  a  good  buy.  You 
will  remember  that  some  ten  years  ago  a  company  was 
incorporated  with  the  idea  of  building  a  railroad  from 
Grant's  Pass,  Oregon,  on  the  line  of  the  Southern  Pacific, 
down  the  Oregon  and  California  coast  to  tap  the  red 
wood  belt." 

"I  remember.  There  was  a  big  whoop  and  hurrah 
and  then  the  proposition  died  abornin'.  The  engineers 
found  that  the  cost  of  construction  through  that  moun 
tainous  country  was  prohibitive." 

"Well,  before  the  project  died,  Gregory  and  his 
associates  believed  that  it  was  going  to  survive.  They 
decided  to  climb  in  on  the  ground  floor — had  some  ad 
vance,  inside  information  that  the  road  was  to  be  built; 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         189 

so  they  quietly  gathered  together  thirty  thousand  acres 
of  good  stuff  and  then  sat  down  to  wait  for  the  railroad. 
And  they  are  still  waiting.  Gregory,  by  the  way,  is 
the  president  of  the  Trinidad  Redwood  Timber  Com 
pany.  He's  an  Edinburgh  man,  and  the  fly  American 
promoters  got  him  to  put  up  the  price  of  the  timber  and 
then  mortgaged  their  interests  to  him  as  security  for 
the  advance.  He  foreclosed  on  their  notes  five  years 
ago." 

"And  there  he  is  with  his  useless  timber!"  John  Car 
digan  murmured  thoughtfully.  "The  poor  Scotch 
sucker!" 

"He  isn't  poor.  The  purchase  of  that  timber  didn't 
even  dent  his  bank-roll.  He's  what  they  call  in  Eng 
land  a  tinned-goods  manufacturer — purveyor  to  His 
Majesty  the  King,  and  all  that.  But  he  would  like  to 
sell  his  timber,  and  being  Scotch,  naturally  he  desires 
to  sell  it  at  a  profit.  In  order  to  create  a  market  for 
it,  however,  he  has  to  have  an  outlet  to  that  market. 
We  supply  the  outlet — with  his  help ;  and  what  happens? 
Why,  timber  that  cost  him  fifty  and  seventy-five  cents 
per  thousand  feet  stumpage — and  the  actual  timber  will 
overrun  the  cruiser's  estimate  every  time — will  be  worth 
two  dollars  and  fifty  cents — perhaps  more." 

The  elder  Cardigan  turned  slowly  in  his  chair  and 
bent  his  sightless  gaze  upon  his  son.  "Well,  well,"  he 
cried  impatiently. 

"  He  loans  us  the  money  to  build  our  road.  We  build 
it — on  through  our  timber  and  into  his.  The  collateral 
security  which  we  put  up  will  be  a  twenty-five-years 
contract  to  haul  his  logs  to  tidewater  on  Humboldt 
Bay,  at  a  base  freight-rate  of  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents. 


190         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

with  an  increase  of  twenty-five  cents  per  thousand 
every  five  years  thereafter,  and  an  option  for  a  renewal 
of  the  contract  upon  expiration,  at  the  rate  of  freight 
last  paid.  We  also  grant  him  perpetual  booming-space 
for  his  logs  in  the  slough  which  we  own  and  where  we 
now  store  our  logs  until  needed  at  the  mill.  In  addition 
we  sell  him,  at  a  reasonable  figure,  sufficient  land  front 
ing  on  tidewater  to  enable  him  to  erect  a  sawmill, 
lay  out  his  yards,  and  build  a  dock  out  into  the  deep 
water. 

"Thus  Gregory  will  have  that  which  he  hasn't  got 
now — an  outlet  to  his  market  by  water;  and  when  the 
railroad  to  Sequoia  builds  in  from  the  south,  it  will 
connect  with  the  road  which  we  have  built  from  Sequoia 
up  into  Township  Nine  to  the  north;  hence  Gregory 
will  also  have  an  outlet  to  his  market  by  rail.  He  can 
easily  get  a  good  manager  to  run  his  lumber  business 
until  he  finds  a  customer  for  it,  and  in  the  meantime  we 
will  be  charging  his  account  with  our  freight-bills  against 
him  and  gradually  pay  off  the  loan  without  pinching 
ourselves." 

"Have  you  talked  with  Gregory?" 

"Yes.  I  met  Kim  while  I  was  in  San  Francisco. 
Somebody  brought  him  up  to  a  meeting  of  the  Redwood 
Lumber  Manufacturers'  Association,  and  I  pounced 
on  him  like  an  owl  on  a  mouse." 

John  Cardigan's  old  hand  came  gropingly  forth  and 
rested  affectionately  upon  his  boy's.  "What  a  won 
derful  scheme  it  would  have  been  a  year  ago,"  he  mur 
mured  sadly.  "You  forget,  my  son,  that  we  cannot 
last  in  business  long  enough  to  get  that  road  built.; 
even  though  Gregory  should  agree  to  finance  the 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         191 

building  of  it.     The  interest  on  our  bonded  indebted 
ness  is  payable  on  the  first " 

"We  can  meet  it,  sir." 

"Aye,  but  we  can't  meet  the  fift  thousand  dollars 
which,  under  the  terms  of  our  deed  of  trust,  we  are 
required  to  pay  in  on  July  first  of  each  year  as  a  sinking 
fund  toward  the  retirement  of  our  bonds.  By  super 
human  efforts — by  sacrificing  a  dozen  cargoes,  raising 
hob  with  the  market,  and  getting  ourselves  disliked  by 
our  neighbours — we  managed  to  meet  half  of  it  this  year 
and  procure  an  extension  of  six  months  on  the  balance 
due. 

"That  is  Pennington's  way.  He  plays  with  us  as  a 
cat  does  with  a  mouse,  knowing,  like  the  cat,  that  when 
he  is  weary  of  playing,  he  will  devour  us.  And  now, 
when  we  are  deeper  in  debt  than  ever,  when  the  market 
is  lower  and  more  sluggish  than  it  has  been  in  fifteen 
years,  to  hope  to  meet  the  interest  and  the  next  pay 
ment  to  the  sinking  fund  taxes  my  optimism.  Bryce, 
it  just  can't  be  done.  We'd  have  our  road  about  half 
completed  when  we'd  bust  up  in  business;  indeed,  the 
minute  Pennington  suspected  we  were  paralleling  his 
line,  he'd  choke  off  our  wind.  I  tell  you  it  can't  be 
done." 

But  Bryce  contradicted  him  earnestly.  "It  can  be 
done,"  he  said.  "Gregory  knows  nothing  of  our  finan 
cial  condition.  Our  rating  in  the  reports  of  the  commer 
cial  agencies  is  as  good  as  it  ever  was,  and  a  man's  never 
broke  till  somebody  finds  it  out." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  if  we  can  start  building  our  road  and 
have  it  half  completed  before  Penninsrtcn  jumps  on  us, 


192         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Gregory  will  simply  have  to  come  to  our  aid  in  self-defense. 
Once  lie  ties  up  with  us,  he's  committed  to  the  task  of 
seeing  us  through.  If  we  fall,  he  must  pick  us  up  and 
carry  us,  whethe"  he  wants  to  or  not;  and  I  will  so 
arrange  the  deal  that  he  will  have  to.  I  can  do  it,  I 
tell  you." 

John  Cardigan  raised  his  hand.  "No,"  he  said 
firmly,  "I  will  not  allow  you  to  do  this.  That  way — • 
that  is  the  Pennington  method.  If  we  fall,  my  son8 
we  pass  out  like  gentlemen,  not  blackguards.  We  wilS 
not  take  advantage  of  this  man  Gregory's  faith.  If 
he  joins  forces  with  us,  we  lay  our  hand  on  the  table 
and  let  him  look." 

"Then  he'll  never  join  hands  with  us,  partner. 
We're  done." 

"We're  not  done,  my  son.  We  have  one  alternative, 
and  I'm  going  to  take  it.  I've  got  to — for  your  sake. 
Moreover,  your  mother  would  have  wished  it  so." 

"You  don't  mean " 

"Yes,  I  do.  I'm  going  to  sell  Pennington  my  Valley 
of  the  Giants.  Thank  God,  that  quarter-section  does 
not  belong  to  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Com 
pany.  It  is  my  personal  property,  and  it  is  not  mort 
gaged.  Pennington  can  never  foreclose  on  it — and 
until  he  gets  it,  twenty-five  hundred  acres  of  virgin 
timber  on  Squaw  Creek  are  valueless — nay,  a  source 
of  expense  to  him.  Bryce,  he  has  to  have  it;  and  he'll 
pay  the  price,  when  he  knows  I  mean  business." 

With  a  sweeping  gesture  he  waved  aside  the  argu 
ments  that  rose  to  his  son's  lips.  "Lead  me  to  the 
telephone,"  he  commanded;  and  Bryce,  recognizing  his 
sire's  unalterable  determination,  obeyed. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         193 

Pennington's  number  in  the  telephone-book,** 
John  Cardigan  commanded  next. 

Bryce  found  it,  and  his  father  proceeded  to  get  the 
Colonel  on  the  wire.  "Pennington,"  he  said  hoarsely, 
"this  is  John  Cardigan  speaking.  IVe  decided  to 
sell  you  that  quarter-section  that  blocks  your  timber 
on  Squaw  Creek." 

"Indeed,"  the  Colonel  purred.  "I  had  an  idea  you 
were  going  to  present  it  to  the  city  for  a  natural  park." 

"I've  changed  my  mind.  IVe  decided  to  sell  at  your 
last  offer." 

"I've  changed  my  mind,  too.  I've  decided  not  to 
buy — at  my  last  offer.  Good-night." 

Slowly  John  Cardigan  hung  the  receiver  on  the  hook, 
turned  and  groped  for  his  son.  When  he  found  him, 
the  old  man  held  him  for  a  moment  in  his  arms.  "Lead 
me  upstairs,  son,"  he  murmured  presently.  "I'm 
tired.  I'm  going  to  bed." 

When  Colonel  Seth  Pennington  turned  from  the 
telephone  and  faced  his  niece,  Shirley  read  his  triumph 
in  his  face.  "Old  Cardigan  has  capitulated  at  last," 
he  cried  exultingly.  "We've  played  a  waiting  game 
and  I've  won;  he  just  telephoned  to  say  he'd  accept  my 
last  offer  for  his  Valley  of  the  Giants,  as  the  sentimental 
old  fool  calls  that  quarter-section  of  huge  redwoods  that 
blocks  the  outlet  to  our  Squaw  Creek  timber." 

"But  you're  not  going  to  buy  it.  You  told  him  so, 
Uncle  Seth." 

"Of  course  I'm  not  going  to  buy  it — at  my  last  offer. 
It's  worth  five  thousand  dollars  in  the  open  market,  and 
once  I  offered  him  fifty  thousand  for  it.  Now  I'll  give 
him  five." 


194         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"I  wonder  why  he  wants  to  sell,"  Shirley  mused. 
"From  what  Bryce  Cardigan  told  me  once,  his  father 
attaches  a  sentimental  value  to  that  strip  of  woods;  his 
wife  is  buried  there;  it's — or  rather,  it  used  to  be — a  sort 
of  shrine  to  the  old  gentleman." 

"He's  selling  it  because  he's  desperate.  If  he  wasn't 
teetering  on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy,  he'd  never  let 
me  outgame  him,"  Pennington  replied  gayly.  "I'll  say 
this  for  the  old  fellow:  he's  no  bluffer.  However,  since 
I  know  his  financial  condition  almost  to  a  dollar,  I 
do  not  think  it  would  be  good  business  to  buy  his 
Valley  of  the  Giants  now.  I'll  wait  until  he  has  gone 
bust — and  save  twenty-five  or  thirty  thousand  dollars.'5 

"I  think  you're  biting  off  your  nose  to  spite  your 
face,  Uncle  Seth.  The  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Com 
pany  needs  that  outlet.  In  dollars  and  cents,  what 
is  it  worth  to  the  Company?" 

"If  I  thought  I  couldn't  get  it  from  Cardigan  a  few 
months  from  now,  I'd  go  as  high  as  a  hundred  thousand 
for  it  to-night,"  he  answered  coolly. 

"In  that  event,  I  advise  you  to  take  it  for  fifty 
thousand.  It's  terribly  hard  on  old  Mr.  Cardigan  to 
have  to  sell  it,  even  at  that  price." 

"You  do  not  understand  these  matters,  Shirley. 
Don't  try.  And  don't  waste  your  sympathy  on  that 
old  humbug.  He  has  to  dig  up  fifty  thousand  dollars 
to  pay  on  his  bonded  indebtedness,  and  he's  finding  it  a 
difficult  job.  He's  just  sparring  for  time,  but  he'13 
lose  out." 

As  if  to  indicate  that  he  considered  the  matter  dosed, 
the  Colonel  drew  his  chair  toward  the  fire,  picked  up  a 
magazine.  <tnd  commenced  idly  to  slit  the  pages.  Shir- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         195 

ley  studied  the  back  of  his  head  for  some  time,  then 
got  out  some  fancy  work  and  commenced  plying  her 
needle.  And  as  she  piled  it,  a  thought,  nebulous  at 
first,  gradually  took  form  in  her  head  until  eventually 
she  murmured  loud  enough  for  the  Colonel  to  hear: 

"I'll  do  it." 

"Do  what?"  Pennington  queried. 

"Something  nice  for  somebody  who  did  something 
nice  for  me,"  she  answered. 

"That  McTavish  girl?"  he  suggested. 

"Poor  Moira!  Isn't  she  sweet,  Uncle  Seth?  I'm 
going  to  give  her  that  black  suit  of  mine.  I've  scarcely 
worn  it " 

"I  thought  so,"  he  interrupted  with  an  indulgent 
yawn.  "Well,  do  whatever  makes  for  your  happiness, 
my  dear.  That's  all  money  is  for." 

About  two  o'clock  the  following  afternoon  old  Judge 
Moore,  of  the  Superior  Court  of  Humboldt  County, 
drifted  into  Bryce  Cardigan's  office,  sat  down  uninvited, 
and  lifted  his  long  legs  to  the  top  of  an  adjacent  chair. 

"Well,  Bryce,  my  boy,"  he  began,  "a  little  bird  tells 
me  your  daddy  is  considering  the  sale  of  Cardigan's 
Redwoods,  or  the  Valley  of  the  Giants,  as  your  paternal 
ancestor  prefers  to  refer  to  that  little  old  quarter-section 
out  yonder  on  the  edge  of  town.  How  about  it?" 

Bryce  stared  at  him  a  moment  questioningly.  "Yes, 
Judge,"  he  replied,  "we'll  sell,  if  we  get  our  price." 

"WTell,"  his  visitor  drawled,  "I  have  a  client  who 
might  be  persuaded.  I'm  here  to  talk  turkey.  What's 
your  price?" 

"Before  we  talk  price,"  Bryce  parried,  "I  want  you 
to  answer  a  question." 


196         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Let  her  fly,"  said  Judge  Moore. 

"Are  you,  directly  or  indirectly,  acting  for  Colonel 
Pennington?" 

"That's  none  of  your  business,  young  man — at  least, 
it  would  be  none  of  your  business  if  I  were,  directly  or 
indirectly,  acting  for  that  unconvicted  thief.  To  the 
best  of  my  information  and  belief,  Colonel  Pennington 
doesn't  figure  in  this  deal  in  any  way,  shape,  or  manner; 
and  as  you  know,  I've  been  your  daddy's  friend  for 
thirty  years." 

Still  Bryce  was  not  convinced,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  he  would  have  staked  his  honour  on  the  Judge's 
veracity.  Nobody  knew  better  than  he  in  what  de 
vious  ways  the  Colonel  worked,  his  wonders  to  perform. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "your  query  is  rather  sudden,  Judge, 
but  still  I  can  name  you  a  price.  I  will  state  frankly, 
however,  that  I  believe  it  to  be  over  your  head.  We 
have  several  times  refused  to  sell  to  Colonel  Pennington 
for  a  hundred  thousand  dollars." 

"Naturally  that  little  dab  of  timber  is  worth  more 
to  Pennington  than  to  anybody  else.  However,  my 
client  has  given  me  instructions  to  go  as  high  as  a  hun 
dred  thousand  if  necessary  to  get  the  property." 

"What!" 

"I  said  it.  One  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  the 
present  standard  weight  and  fineness." 

Judge  Moore's  last  statement  swept  away  Bryce's 
suspicions.  He  required  now  no  further  evidence  that, 
regardless  of  the  identity  of  the  Judge's  client,  that 
client  could  not  possibly  be  Colonel  Seth  Pennington 
or  any  one  acting  for  him,  since  only  the  night  before 
Pennington  had  curtly  refused  to  buy  the  property  for 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         197 

fifty  thousand  dollars.  For  a  moment  Bryce  stared 
stupidly  at  his  visitor.  Then  he  recovered  his  wits. 

"Sold!"  he  almost  shouted,  and  after  the  fashion  of 
the  West  extended  his  hand  to  clinch  the  bargain.  The 
Judge  shook  it  solemnly.  "The  Lord  loveth  a  quick 
trader,"  he  declared,  and  reached  into  the  capacious 
breast  pocket  of  his  Prince  Albert  coat.  "Here's  the 
deed  already  made  out  in  favour  of  myself,  as  trustee.'* 
He  winked  knowingly. 

"  Client's  a  bit  modest,  I  take  it,"  Bryce  suggested. 

"Oh,  very.  Of  course  I'm  only  hazarding  a  guess, 
but  that  guess  is  that  my  client  can  afford  the  gamble 
and  is  figuring  on  giving  Pennington  a  pain  where  he 
•aever  knew  it  to  ache  him  before.  In  plain  English, 
I  believe  the  Colonel  is  in  for  a  razooing  at  the  hands  of 
somebody  with  a  small  grouch  against  him." 

"May  the  Lord  strengthen  that  somebody's  arm," 
Bryce  breathed  fervently.  "If  your  client  can  afford 
to  hold  out  long  enough,  he'll  be  able  to  buy  Penning- 
ton's  Squaw  Creek  timber  at  a  bargain." 

"My  understanding  is  that  such  is  the  programme." 

Bryce  reached  for  the  deed,  then  reached  for  his  hat* 
"If  you'll  be  good  enough  to  wait  here,  Judge  Moore, 
I'll  run  up  to  the  house  and  get  my  father  to  sign  this 
deed.  The  Valley  of  the  Giants  is  his  personal  property, 
you  know.  He  didn't  include  it  in  his  assets  when  in 
corporating  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  returned  with  the  deed 
duly  signed  by  John  Cardigan  and  witnessed  by  Bryce; 
whereupon  the  Judge  carelessly  tossed  his  certified 
check  for  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  on  Bryce's  desk 
and  departed  whistling  "Turkey  in  the  Straw."  Bryce 


198         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

reached  for  the  telephone  and  called  up  Colonel  Pen- 
nington. 

"Bryce  Cardigan  speaking,"  he  began,  but  the 
Colonel  cut  him  short. 

"My  dear,  impulsive  young  friend,"  he  interrupted 
in  oleaginous  tones,  "how  often  do  you  have  to  be  told 
that  I  am  not  quite  ready  to  buy  that  quarter-section?" 

"Oh,"  Bryce  retorted,  "I  merely  called  up  to  tell 
you  that  every  dollar  and  every  asset  you  have  in  the 
world,  including  your  heart's  blood,  isn't  sufficient  to 
buy  the  Valley  of  the  Giants  from  us  now." 

"Eh?    What's  that?    Why?'9 

"Because,  my  dear,  overcautious,  and  thoroughly 
unprincipled  enemy,  it  was  sold  five  minutes  ago  for 
the  tidy  sum  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  if 
you  don't  believe  me,  come  over  to  my  office  and  I'll 
let  you  feast  your  eyes  on  the  certified  check." 

He  could  hear  a  distinct  gasp.  After  an  interval  of 
five  seconds,  however,  the  Colonel  recovered  his  poise. 
"I  congratulate  you,"  he  purred.  "I  suppose  I'll  have 
to  wait  a  little  longer  now,  won't  I?  Well — patience 
is  my  middle  name.  Au  revoir." 

The  Colonel  hung  up.  His  hard  face  was  asheEv 
with  rage,  and  he  stared  at  a  calendar  on  the  wall 
with  his  cold,  phidian  stare.  However,  he  was  not 
without  a  generous  stock  of  optimism.  "Somebody 
has  learned  of  the  low  state  of  the  Cardigan  fortune," 
he  mused,  "  and  taken  advantage  of  it  to  induce  the  old 
man  to  sell  at  last.  They're  figuring  on  selling  to  me  at 
a  neat  profit.  And  I  certainly  did  overplay  my  hand 
last  night.  However,  there's  nothing  to  do  now  except 
sit  tight  and  wait  for  the  new  owner's  next  move." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS          199 

Meanwhile,  in  the  general  office  of  the  Cardigan 
Redwood  Lumber  Company,  joy  was  rampant.  Bryce 
Cardigan  was  doing  a  buck  and  wing  dance  around  the 
room,  while  Moira  McTavish,  with  her  back  to  her  tall 
desk,  watched  him,  in  her  eyes  a  tremendous  joy  and  a 
sweet,  yearning  glow  of  adoration  that  Bryce  was  too 
happy  and  excited  to  notice. 

Suddenly  he  paused  before  her.  "Moira,  you're  a 
lucky  girl,"  he  declared.  "I  thought  this  morning 
you  were  going  back  to  a  kitchen  in  a  logging-camp.  It 
almost  broke  my  heart  to  think  of  fate's  swindling  you 
like  that."  He  put  his  arm  around  her  and  gave  her  a 
brotherly  hug.  "It's  autumn  in  the  woods,  Moira,  and 
aF  the  underbrush  is  golden." 

She  smiled,  though  it  was  winter  in  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  XX 

NOT  the  least  of  the  traits  which  formed  Shirley 
Simmer's  character  was  pride.  Proud  people 
quite  usually  are  fiercely  independent  and 
meticulously  honest — and  Shirley's  pride  was  monu 
mental.  Hers  was  the  pride  of  lineage,  of  womanhood, 
of  an  assured  station  in  life,  combined  with  that  other 
pride  which  is  rather  difficult  of  definition  without  ver 
bosity  and  is  perhaps  better  expressed  in  the  terse  and 
illuminating  phrase  "a  dead-game  sport."  Unlike 
her  precious  relative,  unlike  the  majority  of  her  sex, 
Shirley  had  a  wonderfully  balanced  sense  of  the  eternal 
fitness  of  things;  her  code  of  honour  resembled  that 
of  a  very  gallant  gentleman.  She  could  love  well  and 
hate  well. 

A  careful  analysis  of  Shirley's  feelings  toward  Bryce 
Cardigan  immediately  following  the  incident  in  Pen* 
nington's  woods,  had  showed  her  that  under  more 
propitious  circumstances  she  might  have  fallen  in  love 
with  that  tempestuous  young  man  in  sheer  recognition 
of  the  many  lovable  and  manly  qualities  she  had  dis 
cerned  in  him.  As  an  offset  to  the  credit  side  of  Bryce's 
account  with  her,  however,  there  appeared  certain 
debits-in  the  consideration  of  which  Shirley  always  lost 
her  temper  and  was  immediately  quite  certain  she 
loathed  the  unfortunate  man. 

He  had  been  an  honoured  and  (for  aught  Shirley 

200 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         201 

knew  to  the  contrary)  welcome  guest  in  the  Pennington 
home  one  night,  and  the  following  day  had  assaulted 
his  host,  committed  great  bodily  injuries  upon  the 
latter's  employees  for  little  or  no  reason  save  the  satis 
faction  of  an  abominable  tempers  made  threats  of 
further  violence,  declared  his  unfaltering  enmity  to  her 
nearest  and  best-loved  relative,  and  in  the  next  breath 
had  had  the  insolence  to  prate  of  his  respect  and  admira 
tion  for  her.  Indeed,  in  cogitating  on  this  latter  in 
congruity,  Shirley  recalled  that  the  extraordinary  fellow 
had  been  forced  rather  abruptly  to  check  himself  in 
order  to  avoid  a  fervid  declaration  of  love !  And  all  of 
this  under  the  protection  of  a  double-bitted  axe,  one 
eye  on  her  and  the  other  on  his  enemies. 

However,  all  of  these  grave  crimes  and  misdemeanors 
were  really  insignificant  compared  with  his  crowning 
offense.  What  had  infuriated  Shirley  was  the  fact  that 
she  had  been  at  some  pains  to  inform  Bryce  Cardigan 
that  she  loathed  him — whereat  he  had  looked  her  over 
coolly,  grinned  a  little,  and  declined  to  believe  herf 
Then,  seemingly  as  if  fate  had  decreed  that  her  futility 
should  be  impressed  upon  her  still  further,  Bryce  Cardi 
gan  had  been  granted  an  opportunity  to  save,  in  a 
strikingly  calm,  heroic,  and  painful  manner,  her  and  her 
uncle  from  certain  and  horrible  death,  thus  placing 
upon  Shirley  an  obligation  that  was  as  irritating  to  ac- 
knowledge^as  it  was  futile  to  attempt  to  reciprocate. 

That  was  where  the  shoe  pinched.  Before  that  day 
was  over  she  had  been  forced  to  do  one  of  two  things — 
acknowledge  in  no  uncertain  terms  her  indebtedness  to 
him,  or  remain  silent  and  be  convicted  of  having  been, 
in  plain  language,  a  rotter.  So  she  had  telephoned  him 


£02         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

and  purposely  left  ajar  the  door  to  their  former  friendly 
relations. 

Monstrous!  He  had  seen  the  open  door  and  de 
liberately  slammed  it  in  her  face.  Luckily  for  them 
both  she  had  heard,  all  unsuspected  by  him  as  he  slowly 
hung  the  receiver  on  the  hook,  the  soliloquy  wherein 
he  gave  her  a  pointed  hint  of  the  distress  with  which 
he  abdicated — which  knowledge  was  all  that  deterred 
her  from  despising  him  with  the  fervour  of  a  woman 
scorned. 

Resolutely  Shirley  set  herself  to  the  task  of  forgetting 
Bryce  when,  after  the  passage  of  a  few  weeks,  she  real 
ized  that  he  was  quite  sincere  in  his  determination  to 
forget  her.  Frequent  glimpses  of  him  on  the  streets 
of  Sequoia,  the  occasional  mention  of  his  name  in  the 
Sequoia  Sentinel,  the  very  whistle  of  Cardigan's  mill, 
made  her  task  a  difficult  'one;  and  presently  in  despera 
tion  she  packed  up  and  departed  for  an  indefinite  stay 
in  the  southern  part  of  the  State.  At  the  end  of  six 
weeks,  however,  she  discovered  that  absence  had  had 
the  traditional  effect  upon  her  heart  and  found  herself 
possessed  of  a  great  curiosity  to  study  the  villain  at 
short  range  and  discover,  if  possible,  what  new  rascality 
he  might  be  meditating.  About  this  time,  a  providen 
tial  attack  of  that  aristocratic  ailment,  gout,  having  laid 
Colonel  Penningtoii  low,  she  told  herself  her  duty  lay  in 
Sequoia,  that  she  had  Shirley  Sunnier  in  hand  at  last 
and  that  the  danger  was  over.  In  consequence,  she 
returned  to  Sequoia. 

The  fascination  which  a  lighted  candle  holds  for  a 
moth  is  too  well  known  to  require  further  elucidation 
here.  In  yielding  one  day  to  a  desire  to  visit  the  Valley 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         20S 

of  the  Giants,  Shirley  told  herself  that  she  was  going 
there  to  gather  wild  blackberries.  She  had  been 
thinking  of  a  certain  blackberry  pie,  which  thought 
naturally  induced  reflection  on  Bryce  Cardigan  and 
reminded  Shirley  of  her  first  visit  to  the  Giants  under 
the  escort  of  a  boy  in  knickerbockers.  She  had  a  very 
vivid  remembrance  of  that  little  amphitheatre  with 
the  sunbeams  falling  like  a  halo  on  the  plain  tombstone; 
she  wondered  if  the  years  had  changed  it  all  and  de 
cided  that  there  could  not  possibly  be  any  harm  in 
indulging  a  very  natural  curiosity  to  visit  and  invests 
gate. 

Her  meeting  with  Moira  McTavish  that  day,  and  the> 
subsequent  friendship  formed  with  the  woods -boss's 
daughter,  renewed  all  her  old  apprehensions.  On  the 
assumption  that  Shirley  and  Bryce  were  practically 
strangers  to  each  other  (an  assum,;  ^ion  which  Shirley, 
for  obvious  reasons,  did  not  attempt  to  dissipate), 
Moira  did  not  hesitate  to  mention  Bryce  very  fre 
quently.  To  her  he  was  the  one  human  being  in  the 
world  utterly  worth  while,  and  it  is  natural  for  women  to 
discuss,  frequently  and  at  great  length,  the  subject 
nearest  their  hearts.  In  the  three  stock  subjects  of 
the  admirable  sex — man,  dress,  and  the  ills  that  flesh  is 
heir  to — man  readily  holds  the  ascendancy;  and  by 
degrees  Moira — discovering  that  Shirley,  having  all  the 
dresses  she  required  (several  dozen  more,  in  fact)  and 
being  neither  subnormal  mentally  nor  fragile  physically, 
gave  the  last  two  topics  scant  attention — formed  the 
habit  of  expatiating  at  great  length  on  the  latter. 
Moira  described  Bryce  in  minute  detail  and  related  to 
her^eager  auditor  little  unconscious  daily  acts  of  kind- 


204         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

ness,  thoughtfulness,  or  humour  performed  by  Bryce— -' 
his  devotion  to  his  father,  his  idealistic  attitude  toward 
the  Cardigan  employees,  his  ability,  his  industry,  the 
wonderful  care  he  bestowed  upon  his  fingernails,  his 
marvellous  taste  in  neckwear,  the  boyishness  of  his 
lighter  and  the  mannishness  of  his  serious  moments. 
And  presently,  little  by  little,  Shirley's  resentment 
against  him  faded,  and  in  her  heart  was  born  a  great 
wistfulness  bred  of  the  hope  that  some  day  she  would 
meet  Bryce  Cardigan  on  the  street  and  that  he  would 
pause,  lift  his  hat,  smile  at  her  his  compelling  smile  and, 
forthwith  proceed  to  bully  her  into  being  friendly  and 
forgiving — browbeat  her  into  admitting  her  change  of 
heart  and  glorying  in  it. 

To  this  remarkable  state  of  mind  had  Shirley  Sumner 
attained  at  the  time  old  John  Cardigan,  leading  his  last 
little  trump  in  a  v?  m  hope  that  it  would  enable  him  to 
take  the  odd  trick  in  the  huge  game  he  had  played  for 
fifty  years,  decided  to  sell  his  Valley  of  the  Giants. 

Shortly  after  joining  her  uncle  in  Sequoia,  Shirley 
had  learned  from  the  Colonel  the  history  of  old  man 
Cardigan  and  his  Valley  of  the  Giants,  or  as  the  towns 
people  called  it,  Cardigan's  Redwoods.  Therefore  she 
was  familiar  with  its  importance  to  the  assets  of  the 
Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company,  since,  while  that 
quarter-section  remained  the  property  of  John  Cardigan, 
two  thousand  five  hundred  acres  of  splendid  timber 
owned  by  the  former  were  rendered  inaccessible. 
Her  uncle  had  explained  to  her  that  ultimately  this 
would  mean  the  tying  up  of  some  two  million  dollars, 
and  inasmuch  as  the  Colonel  never  figured  less  than 
fi*.Te  per  cent,  return  on  anything,  he  was  in  this  in- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         205 

stance  facing  a  net  loss  of  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  for  each  year  obstinate  John  Cardigan  persisted 
in  retaining  that  quarter-section. 

"I'd  gladly  give  him  a  hundred  thousand  for  that 
miserable  little  dab  of  timber  and  let  him  keep  a  couple 
of  acres  surrounding  his  wife's  grave,  if  the  old  fool 
would  only  listen  to  reason,"  the  Colonel  had  com 
plained  bitterly  to  her.  "I've  offered  him  that  price 
a  score  of  times,  and  he  tells  me  blandly  the  property 
isn't  for  sa^e.  Well,  he  who  laughs  last  laughs  best, 
and  if  I  can't  get  that  quarter-section  by  paying  more 
than  ten  times  what  it's  worth  in  the  open  market,  I'll 
get  it  some  other  way,  if  it  costs  me  a  million." 

"How?"  Shirley  had  queried  at  the  time. 

"Never  mind,  my  dear,"  he  had  answered  darkly. 
"You  wouldn't  understand  the  procedure  if  I  told  you. 
I'll  have  to  run  all  around  Robin  Hood's  barn  and  put 
up  a  deal  of  money,  one  way  or  another,  but  in  the  end 
I'll  get  it  all  back  with  interest — and  Cardigan's  Red 
woods!  The  old  man  can't  last  forever,  and  what  with 
his  fool  methods  of  doing  business,  he's  about  broke, 
anyhow.  I  expect  to  do  business  with  his  executor  or 
his  receiver  within  a  year." 

Shirley,  as  explained  in  a  preceding  chapter,  had 
been  present  the  night  John  Cardigan,  desperate  and 
brought  to  bay  at  last,  had  telephoned  Pennington 
at  the  latter's  home,  accepting  Pennington's  last  offer 
for  the  Valley  of  the  Giants.  The  cruel  triumph  in 
the  Colonel's  handsome  face  as  he  curtly  rebuffed  old 
Cardigan  had  been  too  apparent  for  the  girl  to  mistake; 
recalling  her  conversation  with  him  anent  the  impend 
ing  possibility  of  his  doing  business  with  John  Cardi- 


203         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

gaii's  receiver  or  executor,  she  realized  now  that  a  crisis 
had  come  in  the  affairs  of  the  Cardigans,  and  across  her 
vision  there  flashed  again  the  vision  of  Bryce  Cardigan's 
homecoming — of  a  tall  old  man  with  his  trembling  arms 
clasped  around  his  boy,  with  grizzled  cheek  laid  against 
his  son's,  as  one  who,  seeking  comfort  through  bitter 
years,  at  length  had  found  it. 

Presently  another  thought  came  to  Shirley.  She 
knew  Bryce  Cardigan  was  far  from  being  indifferent 
to  her;  she  had  given  him  his  opportunity  tc  be  friendly 
with  her  again,  and  he  had  chosen  to  ignore  her  though 
sorely  against  his  will.  For  weeks  Shirley  had  pon 
dered  this  mysterious  action,  and  now  she  thought  she 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  reason  underlying  it  all.  In 
Sequoia,  Bryce  Cardigan  was  regarded  as  the  heir  to 
the  throne  of  Humboldt's  first  timber-king,  but  Shirley 
knew  now  that  as  a  timber-king,  Bryce  Cardigan  bade 
fair  to  wear  a  tinsel  crown.  Was  it  this  knowledge 
that  had  led  him  to  avoid  her? 

" I  wonder,"  she  mused.  "He's  proud.  Perhaps  the 
realization  that  he  will  soon  be  penniless  and  shorn  of 
his  high  estate  has  made  him  chary  of  acquiring  new 
friends  in  his  old  circle.  Perhaps  if  he  were  secure  in  his 

business   affairs Ah,   yes!     Poor  boy!    He  was 

desperate  for  fifty  thousand  dollars!"  Her  heart 
swelled.  "Oh,  Bryce,  Bryce,"  she  murmured,  "I  think 
I'm  beginning  to  understand  some  of  your  fury  that 
day  in  the  woods.  It's  all  a  great  mystery,  but  I'm 
sure  you  didn't  intend  to  be  so — so  terrible.  Oh5  my 
dear,  if  we  had  only  continued  to  be  the  good  friends 
we  started  out  to  be,  perhaps  you'd  let  me  help  you 
now.  For  what  good  is  money  if  one  cannot  help  one's 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         207 

dear  friends  in  distress.  Still,  I  know  you  wouldn't  let 
me  help  you,  for  men  of  your  stamp  cannot  borrow  from 
a  woman,  no  matter  how  desperate  their  need.  And 
yet — you  only  need  a  paltry  fifty  thousand  dollars!" 

Shirley  carried  to  bed  with  her  that  night  the  woes 
of  the  Cardigans,  and  in  the  morning  she  telephoned 
Moira  McTavish  and  invited  the  latter  to  lunch  with 
her  at  home  that  noon.  It  was  in  her  mind  to  question 
Moira  with  a  view  to  acquiring  additional  information. 
When  Moira  came,  Shirley  saw  that  she  had  been 
weeping. 

"My  poor  Moira!"  she  said,  putting  her  arms  around 
her  visitor.  "What  has  happened  to  distress  you? 
Has  your  father  come  back  to  Sequoia?  Forgive  me  for 

asking.  You  never  mentioned  him,  but  I  have  heard 

There,  there,  dear!     Tell  me  all  about  it." 

Moira  laid  her  head  on  Shirley's  shoulder  and  sobbed 
for  several  minutes.  Then,  "It's  Mr.  Bryce,"  she 
wailed.  "He's  so  unhappy.  Something's  happened; 
they're  going  to  sell  Cardigan's  Redwoods;  and  they-r- 
don't  want  to.  Old  Mr.  Cardigan  is  home — ill;  and 
just  before  I  left  the  office,  Mr.  Bryce  came  in — and 
stood  a  moment  looking — at  me — so  tragically  I — I 
asked  him  what  had  happened.  Then  he  patted  my 
cheek — oh,  I  know  I'm  just  one  of  his  responsibilities— 
and  said  'Poor  Moira!  Never  any  luck!'  and  went 
into  his — private  office.  I  waited  a  little,  and  then 
I  went  in  too;  and — oh,  Miss  Sumner,  he  had  his 
head  down  on  his  desk,  and  when  I  touched  his  head, 
he  reached  up  and  took  my  hand  and  held  it — and  laid 
his  cheek  against  it  a  little  while — and  oh,  his  cheek  was 
wet.  It's  cruel  of  God — to  make  him — unhappy. 


208         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

He's  good — too  good.  And — oh,  I  love  him  so,  Miss 
Shirley,  I  love  him  so — and  he'll  never,  never  know. 
I'm  just  one  of  his — responsibilities,  you  know;  and 
I  shouldn't  presume.  But  nobody — has  ever  been 
kind  to  me  but  Mr.  Bryce — and  you.  And  I  can't 
help  loving  people  who  are  kind — and  gentle  to 
nobodies." 

The  hysterical  outburst  over,  Shirley  led  the  girl  to 
her  cozy  sitting-room  upstairs  and  prevailed  upon  the 
girl  to  put  on  one  of  her  own  beautiful  negligees. 
Moira's  story — her  confession  of  love,  so  tragic  because 
so  hopeless — had  stirred  Shirley  deeply.  She  seated 
herself  in  front  of  Moira  and  cupped  her  chin  in  her 
palm. 

"Of  course,  dear,"  she  said,  "you  couldn't  possibly 
see  anybody  you  loved  suffer  so  and  not  feel  dreadfully 
about  it.  And  when  a  man  like  Bryce  Cardigan  is 
struck  down,  he's  apt  to  present  rather  a  tragic  and 
helpless  figure.  He  wanted  sympathy,  Moira — • 
woman's  sympathy,  and  it  was  dear  of  you  to  give  it  to 
him." 

"I'd  gladly  die  for  him,"  Moira  answered  simply. 
"Oh,  Miss  Shirley,  you  don't  know  him  the  way  we 
who  work  for  him  do.  If  you  did,  you'd  love  him,  too. 
You  couldn't  help  it,  Miss  Shirley." 

"Perhaps  he  loves  you,  too,  Moira."  The  words 
came  with  difficulty. 

Moira  shook  her  head  hopelessly.  "No,  Miss  Shiiv 
ley.  I'm  only  one  of  his  many  human  problems,  and 
he  just  won't  go  back  on  me,  for  old  sake's  sake.  We 
played  together  ten  years  ago,  when  he  used  to  spend 
his  va/^tions  at  our  house  in  Cardigan's  woods,  when 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         209 

my  father  was  woods-boss.  He's  Bryce  Cardigan — 
and  I — I  used  to  work  in  the  kitchen  of  his  logging- 
camp." 

"Never  mind,  Moira.  He  may  love  you,  even 
though  you  do  not  suspect  it.  You  mustn't  be  so  de 
spairing.  Providence  has  a  way  of  working  out  these 
things.  Tell  me  about  his  trouble,  Moira." 

"  I  think  it's  money.  He's  been  terribly  worried  for 
a  long  time,  and  I'm  afraid  things  aren't  going  right 
with  the  business.  I've  felt  ever  since  I've  been  there 
that  there's  something  that  puts  a  cloud  over  Mr. 
Bryce's  smile.  It  hurts  them  terribly  to  have  to  sell 
the  Valley  of  the  Giants,  but  they  have  to;  Colonel 
Pennington  is  the  only  one  who  would  consider  buying 
it;  they  don't  want  him  to  have  it — and  still  they  have 
to  sell  to  him." 

"I  happen  to  know,  Moira,  that  he  isn't  going  to 
buy  it." 

"Yes,  he  is — but  not  at  a  price  that  will  do  them  any 
good.  They  have  always  thought  he  would  be  eager  to 
buy  whenever  they  decided  to  sell,  and  now  he  says  he 
doesn't  want  it,  and  old  Mr.  Cardigan  is  ill  over  it  all. 
Mr.  Bryce  says  his  father  has  lost  his  courage  at  last; 
find  oh,  dear,  things  are  in  such  a  mess.  Mr.  Bryce 
Started  to  tell  me  all  about  it — and  then  he  stopped 
suddenly  and  wouldn't  say  another  word." 

Shirley  smiled.  She  thought  she  understood  the 
reason  for  that.  However,  she  did  not  pause  to  specu 
late  on  it,  since  the  crying  need  of  the  present  was  the 
distribution  of  a  ray  of  sunshine  to  broken-hearted 
Moira. 

"Silly,"  she  chided,  "how  needlessly  you  are  grieving  I 


210         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

You  say  my  uncle  has  declined  to  buy  the  Valley  of  the 
Giants?" 

Moira  nodded. 

"My  uncle  doesn't  know  what  he's  talking  about, 
Moira.  I'll  see  that  he  does  buy  it.  What  price  are 
the  Cardigans  asking  for  it  now?" 

"Well,  Colonel  Pennington  has  offered  them  a  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars  for  it  time  and  again,  but  last 
night  he  withdrew  that  offer.  Then  they  named  a 
price  of  fifty  thousand,  and  he  said  he  didn't  want  it 
at  all." 

"He  needs  it,  and  it's  worth  every  cent  of  a  hundred 
thousand  to  him,  Moira.  Don't  worry,  dear.  He'll 
buy  it,  because  I'll  make  him,  and  he'll  buy  it  im 
mediately;  only  you  must  promise  me  not  to  mention 
a  single  word  of  what  I'm  telling  you  to  Bryce  Cardi 
gan,  or  in  fact,  to  anybody.  Do  you  promise?" 

Moira  seized  Shirley's  hand  and  kissed  it  impulsively. 
"Very  well,  then,"  Shirley  continued.  "That  matter 
is  adjusted,  and  now  we'll  all  be  happy.  Here  comes 
Thelma  with  luncheon.  Cheer  up,  dear,  and  remember 
that  sometime  this  afternoon  you're  going  to  see  Mr. 
Bryce  smile  again,  and  perhaps  there  won't  be  so  much 
of  a  cloud  over  his  smile  this  time." 

When  Moira  returned  to  the  office  of  the  Cardigan 
Redwood  Lumber  Company,  Shirley  rang  for  her 
maid.  "Bring  me  my  motor-coat  and  hat,  Thehna," 
she  ordered,  "and  telephone  for  the  limousine."  She 
seated  herself  before  the  mirror  at  her  dressing-table 
and  dusted  her  adorable  nose  with  a  powder-putT. 
"Mr.  Smarty  Ca  iigan,"  she  murmured  happily, 
"you  walked  rough-shod  over  my  pride,  didn't  you! 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Placed  me  under  an  obligation  I  could  never  hope  to 
meet — and  then  ignored  me — didn't  you?  Very  well, 
old  boy.  We  all  have  our  innings  sooner  or  later,  you 
know,  and  I'm  going  to  make  a  substantial  payment 
on  that  huge  obligation  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Shirley 
Sunmer.  Then,  some  day  when  the  sun  is  shining  for 
you  again,  you'll  come  to  me  and  be  very,  very  humble. 
You're  entirely  too  independent,  Mr.  Cardigan,  but,  oh, 
my  dear,  I  do  hope  you  will  not  need  so  much  money. 
I'll  be  put  to  my  wit's  end  to  get  it  to  you  without  letting 
you  know,  because  if  your  affairs  go  to  smash,  you'll  be 
perfectly  intolerable.  And  yet  you  deserve  it.  You're 
such  an  idiot  for  not  loving  Moira.  She's  an  angel, 
and  I  gravely  fear  I'm  just  an  interfering,  mischievous, 

resentful  little  devil  seeking  vengeance  on " 

She  paused  suddenly.  "No,  I'll  not  do  that,  either," 
she  soliloquized.  "I'll  keep  it  myself — for  an  invest 
ment.  I'll  show  Uncle  Seth  I'm  a  business  woman, 
after  all.  He  has  had  his  fair  chance  at  the  Valley  of 
the  Giants,  after  waiting  years  for  it,  and  now  he  has 
deliberately  sacrificed  that  chance  to  be  mean  and 
vindictive.  I'm  afraid  Uncle  Seth  isn't  very  sporty- 
after  what  Bryce  Cardigan  did  for  us  that  day  the  log- 
train  ran  away.  I'll  have  to  teach  him  not  to  hit  an 
old  man  when  he's  down  and  begging  for  mercy.  /'// 
buy  the  Valley  but  keep  my  identity  secret  from 
everybody;  then,  when  Uncle  Seth  finds  a  stranger 
in  possession,  he'll  have  a  fit,  and  perhaps,  before  he 
recovers,  he'll  sell  me  all  his  Squaw  Creek  timber — only 
he'll  never  know  I'm  the  buyer.  And  when  I  control 
the  outlet — well,  I  think  that  Squaw  Creek  timber  will 
make  an  excellent  investment  if  it's  held  for  a  few  years. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Shirley,  my  dear,  I'm  pleased  with  you.  Really,  I 
never  knew  until  now  why  men  could  be  so  devoted  to 
business.  Won't  it  be  jolly  to  step  in  between  Uncle 
Seth  and  Bryce  Cardigan,  hold  up  my  hand  like  a 
policeman,  and  say:  'Stop  it,  boys.  No  fighting,  if 
you  please.  And  if  anybody  wants  to  know  who's  boss 
around  here,  start  something." 

And  Shirley  laid  her  head  upon  the  dressing-table  and 
laughed  heartily.  She  had  suddenly  bethought  herself 
of  ^Esop's  fable  of  the  lion  and  the  mouse! 

When  her  uncle  came  home  that  night,  Shirley  ob 
served  that  he  was  preoccupied  and  disinclined  to  con 
versation. 

"I  noticed  in  this  evening's  paper,"  she  remarked 
presently,  "that  Mr.  Cardigan  has  sold  his  Valley  of 
the  Giants.  So  you  bought  it,  after  all?  " 

"No  such  luck!"  he  almost  barked.  "I'm  an  idiot. 
I  should  be  placed  in  charge  of  a  keeper.  Now,  for 
heaven's  sake,  Shirley,  don't  discuss  that  timber  with 
me,  for  if  you  do,  I'll  go  plain,  lunatic  crazy.  I've 
had  a  very  trying  day." 

"Poor  Uncle  Seth!"  she  purred  sweetly.  Her 
apparent  sympathy  soothed  his  rasped  soul.  He  con* 
tinned : 

"Oh,  I'll  get  the  infernal  property,  and  it  will  be 
worth  what  I  have  to  pay  for  it,  only  it  certainly  does 
gravel  me  to  realize  that  I  am  about  to  be  held  up,  with 
no  help  in  sight.  I'll  see  Judge  Moore  to-morrow  and 
offer  him  a  quick  profit  for  his  client.  That's  the  game, 
you  know." 

"I  do  hope  the  new  owner  exhibits  some  common 
sense,  Uncle  dear/'  she  replied,  and  turned  back  to 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         213 

the  piano.  "But  I  greatly  fear,"  she  added  to  her 
self,  "that  the  new  owner  is  going  to  prove  a  most 
obstinate  creature  and  frightfully  hard  to  discover." 

True  to  his  promise,  the  Colonel  called  on  Judge 
Moore  bright  and  early  the  following  morning.  "Act 
Three  of  that  little  business  drama  entitled  'The 
Valley  of  the  Giants,'  my  dear  Judge,"  he  announced 
pleasantly.  "I  play  the  lead  in  this  act.  You  re 
member  me,  I  hope.  I  played  a  bit  in  Act  Two." 

"In  so  far  as  my  information  goes,  sir,  you've  been 
cut  out  of  the  cast  in  Act  Three.  I  don't  seem  to  find 
any  lines  for  you  to  speak." 

"One  line,  Judge,  one  little  line.  What  profit  does 
your  client  want  on  that  quarter-section?" 

"That  quarter-section  is  not  in  the  market,  Colonel. 
When  it  is,  I'll  send  for  you,  since  you're  the  only  logical 
prospect  should  my  client  decide  to  sell.  And  remem 
bering  how  you  butted  in  on  politics  in  this  county  last 
fall  and  provided  a  slush-fund  to  beat  me  and  place  a 
crook  on  the  Superior  Court  bench,  in  order  to  give  you 
an  edge  in  the  many  suits  you  are  always  filing  or  having 
filed  against  you,  I  rise  to  remark  that  you  have  about 
ten  split  seconds  in  which  to  disappear  from  my  office. 
If  you  linger  longer,  I'll  start  throwing  paper-weights." 
And  as  if  to  emphasize  his  remark,  the  Judge's  hand 
closed  over  one  of  the  articles  in  question. 

The  Colonel  withdrew  with  what  dignity  he  could 
muster. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

UPON  his  return  from  the  office  that  night, 
Bryce  Cardigan  found  his  father  had  left  his 
bed  and  was  seated  before  the  library  fire. 

"Feeling  a  whole  lot  better  to-day,  eh,  pal?"  his  son 
queried. 

John  Cardigan  smiled.  "Yes,  son,"  he  replied 
plaintively.  "I  guess  I'll  manage  to  live  till  next 
spring." 

"Oh,  I  knew  there  was  nothing  wrong  with  you, 
John  Cardigan,  that  a  healthy  check  wouldn't  cure. 
Pennington  rather  jolted  you,  though,  didn't  he?  " 

"He  did,  Bryce.  It  was  jolt  enough  to  be  forced  to 
sell  that  quarter — I  never  expected  we'd  have  to  do  it; 
but  when  I  realize  that  it  was  a  case  of  sacrificing  you 
or  my  Giants,  of  course  you  won.  And  I  didn't  feel  so 
badly  about  it  as  I  used  to  think  I  would.  I  suppose 
that's  because  there  is  a  certain  morbid  pleasure  in  a 
real  sacrifice  for  those  we  love.  And  I  never  doubted 
but  that  Pennington  would  snap  up  the  property  the 
instant  I  offered  to  sell.  Hence  his  refusal — in  the 
face  of  our  desperate  need  for  money  to  carry  on  until 
conditions  improve — almost  floored  your  old  man." 

"Well,  we  can  afford  to  draw  our  breath  now,  and 
that  gives  us  a  fighting  chance,  partner.  And  right 
after  dinner  you  and  I  will  sit  down  and  start  brewing 
a  pot  of  powerful  bad  medicine  for  the  Colonel." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         215 

<5Son,  I've  been  sitting  here  simmering  all  day.'* 
There  was  a  note  of  the  old  dominant  fighting  John 
Cardigan  in  his  voice  now.  "And  it  has  occurred  to 
me  that  even  if  I  must  sit  on  the  bench  and  root,  I've 
not  reached  the  point  where  my  years  have  begun  to 
affect  my  thinking  ability."  He  touched  his  leonine 
head.  "  I'm  as  right  as  a  fox  upstairs,  Bryce." 

"Right-o,  Johnny.  We'll  buck  the  line  together. 
After  dinner  you  trot  out  your  plan  of  campaign  and 
I'll  trot  out  mine;  then  we'll  tear  them  apart,  select 
the  best  pieces  of  each  and  weld  them  into  a  perfect 
whole." 

Accordingly,  dinner  disposed  of,  father  and  son  sat 
down  together  to  prepare  the  plan  of  campaign.  For 
the  space  of  several  minutes  a  silence  settled  between 
them,  the  while  they  puffed  meditatively  upon  their 
cigars.  Then  the  old  man  spoke. 

"We'll  have  to  fight  him  in  the  dark." 

"Why?" 

"Because  if  Pennington  knows,  or  even  suspects 
the  identity  of  the  man  who  is  going  to  parallel  his 
logging  railroad,  he  will  throw  all  the  weight  of  his 
truly  capable  mind,  his  wealth  and  his  ruthlessness 
against  you — and  you  will  be  smashed.  To  beat 
that  man,  you  must  do  more  than  spend  money 
You  will  have  to  outthink  him,  outwork  him,  outgame 
him,  and  when  eventually  you  have  won,  you'll  know 
you've  been  in  the  fight  of  your  career.  You  have  one 
advantage  starting  out.  The  Colonel  doesn't  think 
you  have  the  courage  to  parallel  his  road  in  the  first 
place;  in  the  second  place,  he  knows  you  haven't  the 
money:  and  in  the  third  place  he  is  morally  certain  you 


216         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

cannot  borrow  it,  because  you  haven't  any  collateral 
to  secure  your  note. 

"We  are  mortgaged  now  to  the  limit,  and  our  floating 
indebtedness  is  very  large;  on  the  face  of  things  and  ac 
cording  to  the  Colonel's  very  correct  inside  information, 
we're  helpless;  and  unless  the  lumber-market  stiffens 
very  materially  this  year,  by  the  time  our  hauling-con- 
tract  with  Pennington's  road  expires,  we'll  be  back 
where  we  were  yesterday  before  we  sold  the  Giants. 
Pennington  regards  that  hundred  thousand  as  get-away 
money  for  us.  So,  all  things  considered,  the  Colonel, 
will  be  slow  to  suspect  us  of  having  an  ace  in  the  hole; 
but  by  jinks  we  have  it,  and  we're  going  to  play  it." 

"No,"  said  Bryce,  "we're  going  to  let  somebody  else 
play  it  for  us.  The  point  you  make — to  wit,  that  we 
must  remain  absolutely  in  the  background — is  well 
taken." 

"Very  well,"  agreed  the  old  man.  "Now  let  us 
proceed  to  the  next  point.  You  must  engage  some 
reliable  engineer  to  look  over  the  proposed  route  of  the 
road  and  give  us  an  estimate  of  the  cost  of  construction." 

"For  the  sake  of  argument  we  will  consider  that 
done,  and  that  the  estimate  comes  within  the  scope  of 
the  sum  Gregory  is  willing  to  advance  us." 

"Your  third  step,  then,  will  be  to  incorporate  a 
railroad  company  under  the  laws  of  the  State  of  Cali 
fornia." 

"I  think  I'll  favour  the  fair  State  of  New  Jersey 
with  our  trade,"  Bryce  suggested  dryly.  "I  notice 
that  when  Pennington  bought  out  the  Henderson  in 
terests  and  reorganized  that  property,  he  incorporated 
tie  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company  under  the  laws 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GL\NTS    217 

of  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  home  of  the  trusts.  There 
must  be  some  advantage  connected  with  such  a  course." 

"Have  it  your  own  way,  boy.  What's  good  enough 
for  the  Colonel  is  good  enough  for  us.  Now,  then,  you 
are  going  to  incorporate  a  company  to  build  a  road 
twelve  miles  long — and  a  private  road,  at  that.  That 
would  be  a  fatal  step.  Pennington  would  know  some 
body  was  going  to  build  a  logging-road,  and  regardless 
of  who  the  builders  were,  he  would  have  to  fight  them 
in  self -protection.  How  are  you  going  to  cover  your 
trail,  my  son?" 

Bryce  pondered.  "I  will,  to  begin,  have  a  dummy 
board  of  directors.  Also,  my  road  cannot  be  private; 
it  must  be  a  common  carrier,  and  that's  where  the  shoe 
pinches.  Common  carriers  are  subject  to  the  rules 
*md  regulations  of  the  Railroad  Commission." 

"They  are  wise  and  just  rules,"  commented  the  old 
man,  "expensive  to  obey  at  times,  but  quite  necessary. 
We  can  obey  and  still  be  happy.  Objection  overruled." 

"Well,  then,  since  we  must  be  a  common  carrier,  we 
might  as  well  carry  our  deception  still  further  and 
incorporate  for  the  purpose  of  building  a  road  from 
Sequoia  to  Grant's  Pass,  Oregon,  there  to  connect 
with  the  Southern  Pacific." 

John  Cardigan  smiled.  "The  old  dream  revived, 
eh?  Well,  the  old  jokes  always  bring  a  hearty  laugh. 
People  will  laugh  at  your  company,  because  folks  up 
this  way  realize  that  the  construction  cost  of  such  a 
road  is  prohibitive,  not  to  mention  the  cost  of  main 
tenance,  which  would  be  tremendous  and  out  of  all 
proportion  to  the  freight  area  tapped." 

"Well,  since  we're  net  going  to  build  more  than 


218         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

twelve  miles  of  our  road  during  the  next  year,  and 
probably  not  more  than  ten  miles  additional  during 
the  present  century,  we  won't  worry  over  it.  It  doesn't 
cost  a  cent  more  to  procure  a  franchise  to  build  a  road 
from  here  to  the  moon.  If  we  fail  to  build  to  Grant's 
Pass,  our  franchise  to  build  the  uncompleted  portion  of 
the  road  merely  lapses  and  we  hold  only  that  portion 
which  we  have  constructed.  That's  all  we  want  to  hold." 

"How  about  rights  of  way?" 

"They  will  cost  us  very  little,  if  anything.  Most  of 
the  landowners  along  the  proposed  route  will  give  us 
rights  of  way  free  gratis  and  for  nothing,  just  to  en 
courage  the  lunatics.  Without  a  railroad  the  land  is 
valueless;  and  as  a  common  carrier  they  know  we  can 
condemn  rights  of  way  capriciously  withheld — some 
thing  we  cannot  do  as  a  pAvate  road.  Moreover & 
deeds  to  rights  of  way  can  be  drawn  with  a  time-limit, 
after  which  they  revert  to  the  original  owners." 

"Good  strategy,  my  son!  And  certainly  as  a  com 
mon  carrier  we  will  be  welcomed  by  the  farmers  and 
cattlemen  along  our  short  line.  We  can  handle  their 
freight  without  much  annoyance  and  perhaps  at  a 
slight  profit." 

"Well,  that  about  completes  the  rough  outline  of 
our  plan.  The  next  thing  to  do  is  to  start  and  keep 
right  on  moving,  for  as  old  Omar  has  it,  'The  bird  of 
time  hath  but  a  little  way  to  flutter,'  and  the  birdsho* 
is  catching  up  with  him.  We  have  a  year  in  which  to 
build  our  road;  if  we  do  not  hurry,  the  mill  will  have 
to  shut  down  for  lack  of  logs,  when  our  contract  with 
Pennington  expires . ' ' 

"You  forget  the  manager  for  our  new  corporation — 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         219 

tne  vice-president  and  general  manager.  The  man 
vre  engage  must  be  the  fastest  and  most  convincing 
talker  in  California;  not  only  must  he  be  able  to  tell  a 
lie  with  a  straight  face,  but  he  must  be  able  to  believe 
his  own  lies.  And  he  must  talk  in  millions,  look 
millions,  and  act  as  if  a  million  dollars  were  equivalent 
in  value  to  a  redwood  stump.  In  addition,  he  must  be 
a  man  of  real  ability  and  a  person  you  can  trust  im 
plicitly.5' 

"I  have  the  very  man  you  mention.  His  name  is 
Buck  Ogilvy  and  only  this  very  day  I  received  a  lette? 
from  him  begging  me  for  a  small  loan.  I  have  Buck 
on  ice  in  a  fifth-class  San  Francisco  hotel." 

"Tell  me  about  him,  Bryce." 

"Don't  have  to.  You've  just  told  me  about  him. 
However,  I'll  read  you  his  letter.  I  claim  there  is 
more  character  in  a  letter  than  in  a  face." 

Here  Bryce  read  aloud : 

Golden  Gate  Hotel — Rooms  fifty  cents — and  up. 

San  Francisco,  California,  August  fifteenth,  1916. 

MY  DEAR  CARDIGAN:  Hark  to  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the 
wilderness;  then  picture  to  yourself  the  unlovely  spectacle  of  a 
strong  man  crying. 

Let  us  assume  that  you  have  duly  considered.  Now  wind  up 
your  wrist  and  send  me  a  rectangular  piece  of  white,  blue,  green,  or 
pink  paper  bearing  in  the  lower  right-hand  corner,  in  your  clear^ 
bold  chirography,  the  magic  words  "Bryce  Cardigan" — with  the 
little  up-and-down  hook  and  flourish  which  identifies  your  signature 
given  in  your  serious  moods  and  lends  value  to  otherwise  worthless 
paper.  Five  dollars  would  make  me  chirk  up;  ten  would  start  a 
slight  smile;  twenty  would  put  a  beam  in  mine  eye;  fifty  would 
eause  me  to  utter  shrill  cries  of  unadulterated  joy;  and  a  hundred 
vould  inspire  me  to  actions  like  unto  those  of  a  whirling  dervish. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

I  am  so  flat  busted  my  arches  make  hollow  sounds  as  I  tread  the 
hard  pavements  of  a  great  city,  seeking  a  job.  Pausing  on  the  brink 
of  despair,  that  destiny  which  shapes  our  ends  inspired  me  to  think 
of  old  times  and  happier  days  and  particularly  of  that  pink-and~ 
white  midget  of  a  girl  who  tended  the  soda-fountain  just  back  of  the 
railroad  station  at  Princeton.  You  stole  that  damsel  from  me,  and 
I  never  thanked  you.  Then  I  remembered  you  were  a  timber-king 
with  a  kind  heart  and  that  you  lived  somewhere  in  California;  so  I 
looked  in  the  telephone  book  and  found  the  address  of  the  San  Fran 
cisco  office  of  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company.  You 
have  a  mean  man  in  charge  there.  I  called  on  him,  told  him  I  was 
an  old  college  pal  of  yours,  and  tried  to  borrow  a  dollar.  He  spurned 
me  with  contumely — so  much  of  it,  in  fact,  that  I  imagine  you  have 
a  number  of  such  friends.  While  he  was  abusing  me,  I  stole  from 
his  desk  the  stamped  envelope  which  bears  to  you  these  tidings  of 
great  woe;  and  while  awaiting  your  reply,  be  advised  that  I  subsist 
on  the  bitter  cud  of  reflection,  fresh  air,  and  water,  all  of  which, 
thank  God,  cost  nothing. 

My  tale  is  soon  told.  When  you  knew  me  last,  I  was  a  prosper- 
ous  young  contractor.  Alas!  I  put  all  my  eggs  in  one  basket 
and  produced  an  omelet.  Took  a  contract  to  build  a  railroad  hi 
Honduras.  Honduras  got  to  fighting  with  Nicaragua;  the  govern 
ment  I  had  done  business  with  went  out  of  business;  and  the  Nica- 
raguan  army  recruited  all  my  labourers  and  mounted  them  on  my 
mules  and  horses,  swiped  ull  my  grub,  and  told  me  to  go  home.  I 
went.  Why  stay?  Moreover,  I  had  an  incentive  consisting  of 
about  an  inch  of  bayonet — fortunately  not  applied  in  a  vital  spot — 
which  accelerated  rather  than  decreased  my  speed. 

Hurry,  my  dear  Cardigan.  Tempest  fidgets;  remember  Mori- 
arity — which,  if  you  still  remember  your  Latin,  means:  "Tune 
flies.  Remember  to-morrow!"  I  finished  eating  my  overcoat 
the  day  before  yesterday. 

Make  it  a  hundred,  and  God  will  bless  you.  When  I  get  it,  I'll 
come  to  Sequoia  and  kiss  you.  I'll  pay  you  back  sometime — of 

course. 

Wistfully  thine — BUCK  OGILVT. 

P.  S. — Delays  are  dangerous,  and  procrastination  is  the  thief  of 
time. — B. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

John  Cardigan  chuckled.  "I'd  take  Buck  Ogilvy, 
Bryce.  He'll  do.  Is  he  honest?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     He  was,  the  last  time  I  saw  him." 

"Then  wire  him  a  hundred.  Don't  wait  for  the 
mail.  The  steamer  that  carries  your  letter  might  be 
wrecked  and  your  friend  Ogilvy  forced  to  steal." 

"I  have  already  wired  him  the  hundred.  In  all 
probability  he  is  now  out  whirling  like  a  dervish." 

"Good  boy!  Well,  I  think  we've  planned  sufficient 
for  the  present,  Bryce.  You'd  better  leave  for  San 
Francisco  to-morrow  and  close  your  deal  with  Gregory. 
Arrange  with  him  to  leave  his  own  representative 
with  Ogilvy  to  keep  tab  on  the  job,  check  the  bills,  and 
pay  them  as  they  fall  due;  and  above  all  things,  insist 
that  Gregory  shall  place  the  money  in  a  San  Francisco 
bank,  subject  to  the  joint  check  of  his  representative 
and  ours.  Hire  a  good  lawyer  to  draw  up  the  agree 
ment  between  you;  be  sure  you're  right,  and  then  go 
ahead — full  speed.  When  you  return  to  Sequoia,  I'll 
have  a  few  more  points  to  give  you.  I'll  mull  them 
over  in  the  meantime." 


CHAPTER  XXH 

WHEN  Bryce  Cardigan  walked  down  the  gang* 
plank  at  the  steamship-dock  in  San  Fran 
cisco,  the  first  face  he  saw  among  the  waiting 
crowd  was  Buck  Ogilvy's.     Mr.  Ogilvy  wore  his  over 
coat  and  a  joyous  smile,  proving  that  in  so  far  as  he 
was  concerned  all  was  well  with  the  world;  he  pressed 
forward  and   thrust  forth  a  great  speckled  paw  for 
Bryce  to  shake.     Bryce  ignored  it. 

"Why,  don't  you  remember  me?"  Ogilvy  demanded1 
"I'm  Buck  Ogilvy." 

Bryce  looked  him  fairly  in  the  eye  and  favoured  him 
with  a  lightning  wink.  "I  have  never  heard  of  you, 
Mr.  Ogilvy.  You  are  mistaking  me  for  someone  else." 

"Sorry,"  Ogilvy  murmured.  "My  mistake* 
Thought  you  were  Bill  Kerrick,  who  used  to  be  a  part 
ner  of  mine.  I'm  expecting  him  on  this  boat,  and  he's 
the  speaking  image  of  you." 

Bryce  nodded  and  passed  on,  hailed  a  taxicab,  and  was 
driven  to  the  San  Francisco  office  of  his  company. 
Five  minutes  later  the  door  opened  and  Buck  Ogilvy 
entered. 

"I  was  a  bit  puzzled  at  the  dock,  Bryce,"  he  explained 
as  they  shook  hands,  "but  decided  to  play  safe  and  then 
follow  you  to  your  office.  What's  up?  Have  you 
killed  somebody,  and  are  the  detectives  on  your  trail? 
If  so,  'fess  up  and  I'll  assume  the  responsibility  for  ycu* 

HI 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GL4NTS 

crime,  just  to  show  you  how  grateful  I  am  for  that 
hundred." 

"No,  I  wasn't  being  shadowed,  Buck,  but  my  prin 
cipal  enemy  was  coming  down  the  gangplank  right 
behind  me,  and ' 

"So  was  my  principal  enemy,"  Ogilvy  interrupted. 
"What  does  our  enemy  look  like?  " 

"Like  ready  money.  And  if  he  had  seen  me  shak 
ing  hands  with  you,  he'd  have  suspected  a  connection 
between  us  later  on.  Buck,  you  have  a  good  job — 
about  five  hundred  a  month." 

"Thanks,  old  man.  I'd  work  for  you  for  nothing. 
What  are  we  going  to  do?  " 

"Build  twelve  miles  of  logging  railroad  and  parallel 
the  line  of  the  old  wolf  I  spoke  of  a  moment  ago." 

"Good  news!  We'll  do  it.  How  soon  do  you  want 
it  done?" 

"As  soon  as  possible.  You're  the  vice-president  and 
general  manager." 

" I  accept  the  nomination.     What  do  I  do  first?  " 

"Listen  carefully  to  my  story,  analyze  my  plan  for 
possible  weak  spots,  and  then  get  busy,  because  after  I 
have  provided  the  funds  and  given  the  word  'Go!'  the 
rest  is  up  to  you.  I  must  not  be  known  in  the  trans 
action  at  all,  because  that  would  be  fatal.  And  I  miss 
my  guess  if,  once  we  start  building  or  advertising  the 
building  of  the  road,  you  and  I  and  everybody  con 
nected  with  the  enterprise  will  not  be  shadowed  day 
and  night  by  an  army  of  Pinkertons." 

"I  listen,"  said  Buck  Ogilvy,  and  he  inclined  a  large 
speckled  ear  in  Bryce's  direction,  the  while  his  large 
speckled  hand  drew  a  scratch-pad  toward  him. 


224         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Three  hours  later  Ogilvy  was  in  possession  of  the 
most  minute  details  of  the  situation  in  Sequoia,  had 
tabulated,  indexed,  and  cross-indexed  them  in  his  in 
genious  brain  and  was  ready  for  business — and  so 
announced  himself.  "And  inasmuch  as  that  hundred 
you  sent  me  has  been  pretty  well  shattered,"  he  con 
cluded,  "suppose  you  call  in  your  cold-hearted  man 
ager  who  refused  me  alms  on  your  credit,  and  give  him 
orders  to  honour  my  sight-drafts.  If  I'm  to  light 
in  Sequoia  looking  like  ready  money,  I've  got  to 
have  some  high-class,  tailor-made  clothes,  and  a  shine 
and  a  shave  and  a  shampoo  and  a  trunk  and  a  pri 
vate  secretary.  If  there  was  a  railroad  running  into 
Sequoia,  I'd  insist  on  a  private  car." 

This  final  detail  having  been  attended  to,  Mr.  Ogilvy 
promptly  proceeded  to  forget  business  and  launched 
forth  into  a  recital  of  his  manifold  adventures  since 
leaving  Princeton;  and  when  at  length  all  of  their 
classmates  had  been  accounted  for  and  listed  as  dead, 
married,  prosperous,  or  pauperized,  the  amiable  and 
Highly  entertaining  Buck  took  his  departure  with  the 
announcement  that  he  would  look  around  a  little  and 
try  to  buy  some  good  second-hand  grading  equipment 
and  a  locomotive,  in  addition  to  casting  an  eye  over 
the  labour  situation  and  sending  a  few  wires  East  for 
the  purpose  of  sounding  the  market  on  steel  rails. 
Always  an  enthusiast  in  all  things,  in  his  mind's  eye 
Mr.  Ogilvy  could  already  see  a  long  trainload  of  I6gs 
coming  down  the  Northern  California  &  Oregon  Rail 
road,  as  he  and  Bryce  had  decided  to  christen  the 
venture. 

"N.   C.  &  O.,"   Mr.  Ogilvy  murmured.     "Sounds 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

brisk  and  snappy.  I  like  it.  Hope  that  old  hunks 
Pennington  likes  it,  too.  He'll  probably  feel  that  N.  C. 
&  O.  stands  for  Northern  California  Outrage." 

When  Bryce  Cardigan  returned  to  Sequoia,  his 
labours,  in  so  far  as  the  building  of  the  road  were  con 
cerned,  had  been  completed.  His  agreement  with 
Gregory  of  the  Trinidad  Redwood  Timber  Company 
had  been  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered;  the  money  to 
build  the  road  had  been  deposited  in  bank;  and  Buck 
Ogilvy  was  already  spending  it  like  a  drunken  sailor. 
From  now  on,  Bryce  could  only  watch,  wait,  and 
pray. 

On  the  next  steamer  a  surveying  party  with  complete 
camping-equipment  arrived  in  Sequoia,  purchased  a 
wagon  and  two  horses,  piled  their  dunnage  into  the 
wagon,  and  disappeared  up-country.  Hard  on  their 
heels  came  Mr.  Buck  Ogilvy,  and  occupied  the  bridal 
suite  in  the  Hotel  Sequoia,  arrangements  for  which 
had  previously  been  made  by  wire.  In  the  sitting  room 
of  the  suite  Mr.  Ogilvy  installed  a  new  desk,  a  filing- 
cabinet,  and  a  brisk  young  male  secretary. 

He  had  been  in  town  less  than  an  hour  when  the 
editor  of  the  Sequoia  Sentinel  sent  up  his  card.  The 
announcement  of  the  incorporation  of  the  Northern 
California  Outrage  (for  so  had  Mr.  Ogilvy,  in  huge 
enjoyment  of  the  misery  he  was  about  to  create,  dubbed 
the  road)  had  previously  been  flashed  to  the  Sentinel 
by  the  United  Press  Association,  as  a  local  feature 
story,  and  already  speculation  was  rife  in  Sequoia  as 
to  the  identity  of  the  harebrained  individuals  who 
dared  to  back  an  enterprise  as  nebulous  as  the  milieu- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

niurn.  Mr.  Ogilvy  was  expecting  the  visit — in  fact, 
impatiently  awaiting  it;  and  since  the  easiest  thing  he 
did  was  to  speak  for  publication,  naturally  the  editor  of 
the  Sentinel  got  a  story  which,  to  that  individual's 
simple  soul,  seemed  to  warrant  a  seven-column  head — 
which  it  received.  Having  boned  up  on  the  literature 
of  the  Redwood  Manufacturers'  Association,  what 
Buck  Ogilvy  didn't  know  about  redwood  timber,  red 
wood  lumber,  the  remaining  redwood  acreage  and 
market  conditions,  past  and  present,  might  have  been 
secreted  in  the  editorial  eye  without  seriously  hampering 
the  editorial  sight.  He  stated  that  the  capital  behind 
the  project  was  foreign,  that  he  believed  in  the  suc^ 
cess  of  the  project  and  that  his  entire  fortune  was  de 
pendent  upon  the  completion  of  it.  In  glowing  terms 
he  spoke  of  the  billions  of  tons  of  timber-products  to 
be  hauled  out  of  this  wonderfully  fertile  and  little- 
known  country,  and  confidently  predicted  for  the 
county  a  future  commercial  supremacy  that  would  be 
simply  staggering  to  contemplate.  . 

When  Colonel  Seth  Pennington  read  this  outburst  he 
smiled.  "That's  a  bright  scheme  on  the  part  of  that 
Trinidad  Redwood  Timber  Company  gang  to  start  a 
railroad  excitement  and  unload  their  white  elephant," 
he  declared.  "A  scheme  like  that  stuck  them  with  their 
timber,  and  I  suppose  they  figure  there's  a  sucker  born 
every  minute  and  that  the  same  old  gag  might  work 
again.  Chances  are  they  have  a  prospect  in  tow  al 
ready." 

When  Bryce  Cardigan  read  it,  he  laughed.  The 
interview  was  so  like  Buck  Ogilvy!  In  the  morning 
the  latter 's  automobile  was  brought  up  from  the  steam- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

snip-dock,  and  accompanied  by  his  secretary,  Mr. 
Ogilvy  disappeared  into  the  north  following  the  bright 
new  stakes  of  his  surveying-gang,  and  for  three  weeks 
was  seen  no  more.  As  for  Bryce  Cardigan,  that 
young  man  buckled  down  to  business,  and  whenever 
questioned  about  the  new  railroad  was  careful  to  hoot 
at  the  idea. 

On  a  day  when  Bryce's  mind  happened  to  be  oc 
cupied  with  thoughts  of  Shirley  Sumner,  he  bumped  into 
her  on  the  main  street  of  Sequoia,  and  to  her  great 
relief  but  profound  surprise,  he  paused  in  his  tracks , 
lifted  his  hat,  smiled,  and  opened  his  mouth  to  say 
something — thought  better  of  it,  changed  his  mind,  and 
continued  on  about  his  business.  As  Shirley  passed 
him,  she  looked  him  squarely  in  the  face,  and  in  her 
glance  there  was  neither  coldness  nor  malice. 

Bryce  felt  himself  afire  from  heels  to  hair  one  instant, 
and  cold  and  clammy  the  next,  for  Shirley  spoke  to 
him. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Cardigan." 

He  paused,  turned,  and  approached  her.  "Good 
morning,  Shirley,"  he  replied.  " How  have  you  been? '* 

"I  might  have  been  dead,  for  all  the  interest  you 
took  in  me,"  she  replied  sharply.  "As  matters  stand,, 
I'm  exceedingly  well — thank  you.  By  the  way,  are 
you  still  belligerent?" 

He  nodded.     "  I  have  to  be." 

"Still  peeved  at  my  uncle?  " 

Again  he  nodded. 

"I  think  you're  a  great  big  grouch,  Bryce  Cardigan^ 
she  flared  at  him  suddenly.  "You  make  me  unutter 
ably  wearv." 


228         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  answered,  "but  just  at  present  1  am 
forced  to  subject  you  to  the  strain.  Say  a  year  from 
now,  when  things  are  different  with  me,  I'll  strive  not 
to  offend." 

"I'll  not  be  here  a  year  from  now,"  she  warned  him0 
He  bowed.     "Then  I'll  go  wherever  you  are— and 
bring  you  back."    And  with  a  mocking  little  grin,  he 
lifted  his  hat  and  passed  on. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

^TTAHOUGH  Buck  Ogilvy  was  gone  from  Sequoia  for 
p  a  period  of  three  weeks,  he  was  by  no  means  f  or- 

Jl  gotten.  His  secretary  proved  to  be  an  indus 
trious  press-agent  who  by  mail,  telegraph,  and  long 
distance  telephone  managed  daily  to  keep  the  editor  of 
the  Sequoia  Sentinel  fully  apprised  of  all  developments 
in  the  matter  of  the  Northern  California  Oregon  Rail 
road  Company — including  some  that  had  not  as  yet 
developed!  The  result  was  copious  and  persistent 
publicity  for  the  new  railroad  company,  and  the 
arousing  in  the  public  mind  of  a  genuine  interest  in 
this  railroad  which  was  to  do  so  much  for  the  town  of 
Sequoia. 

Colonel  Seth  Pennington  was  among  those  who, 
skeptical  at  first  and  inclined  to  ridicule  the  project 
into  an  early  grave,  eventually  found  himself  swayed 
by  the  publicity  and  gradually  coerced  into  serious 
consideration  of  the  results  attendant  upon  the  build 
ing  of  the  road.  The  Colonel  was  naturally  as  sus 
picious  as  a  rattlesnake  in  August;  hence  he  had  no 
sooner  emerged  from  the  ranks  of  the  frank  scoffers 
than  his  alert  mind  framed  the  question : 

"How  is  this  new  road — improbable  as  I  know  it  to 
be — going  to  affect  the  interests  of  the  Laguna  Grande 
Lumber  Company,  if  the  unexpected  should  happen 
and  those  biwaso-steerers  should  actually  bi^'ld  a  road 

229 


230         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

from  Sequoia  to  Grant's  Pass,  Oregon,  and  thus  con« 
struct  a  feeder  to  a  transcontinental  line?" 

Five  minutes  of  serious  reflection  sufficed  to  bring  the 
Colonel  to  the  verge  of  panic,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  he  was  ashamed  of  himself  for  yielding  to  fright 
despite  his  firm  belief  that  there  was  no  reason  why  he 
.should  be  frightened.  Similar  considerations  occur  to  a 
small  boy  who  is  walking  home  in  the  dark  past  a 
cemetery. 

The  vital  aspects  of  his  predicament  dawned  on  the 
Colonel  one  night  at  dinner,  midway  between  the  soup 
and  the  fish.  So  forcibly  did  they  occur  to  him,  in  fact, 
that  for  the  nonce  he  forgot  that  his  niece  was  seated 
opposite  him. 

"Confound  them,"  the  Colonel  murmured  dis 
tinctly,  "I  must  look  into  this  immediately." 

"Look  into  what,  Uncle  dear?"  Shirley  asked  inno 
cently. 

"This  new  railroad  that  man  Ogilvy  talks  of  builc^ 
ing — which  means,  Shirley,  that  with  Sequoia  as  his 
starting  point,  he  is  going  to  build  a  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  north  to  connect  with  the  main  line  of  the  South 
ern  Pacific  in  Oregon." 

"But  wouldn't  that  be  the  finest  thing  that  could 
possibly  happen  to  Humboldt  County?"  she  demanded 
of  him. 

"Undoubtedly  it  would — to  Humboldt  County; 
but  to  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company,  in  which 
you  have  something  more  than  a  sentimental  interest, 
my  dear,  it  would  be  a  blow.  A  large  part  of  the  estate 
left  by  your  father  is  invested  in  Laguna  Grande  stock, 
and  as  you  know,  all  of  my  efforts  are  devoted  to  appre- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         231 

dating  that  stock  and  to  fighting  against  anything 
that  has  a  tendency  to  depreciate  it." 

"Which  reminds  me,  Uncle  Seth,  that  you  never  dis 
cuss  with  me  any  of  the  matters  pertaining  to  my  busi 
ness  interests,"  she  suggested. 

He  beamed  upon  her  with  his  patronizing  and  indul* 
gent  smile.  "There  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
puzzle  that  pretty  head  of  yours  with  business  affairs 
while  I  am  alive  and  on  the  job,"  he  answered.  "How 
ever,  since  you  have  expressed  a  desire  to  have  this 
railroad  situation  explained  to  you,  I  will  do  so.  I 
am  not  interested  in  seeing  a  feeder  built  from  Sequoia 
north  to  Grant's  Pass,  and  connecting  with  the  South 
ern  Pacific,  but  I  am  tremendously  interested  in  seeing 
a  feeder  built  south  from  Sequoia  toward  San  Fran 
cisco,  to  connect  with  the  Northwestern  Pacific." 

"Why?" 

"For  cold,  calculating  business  reasons,  my  dear.'* 
He  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  resumed:  "A  few 
months  ago  I  would  not  have  told  you  the  things  I  am 
about  to  tell  you,  Shirley,  for  the  reason  that  a  few 
months  ago  it  seemed  to  me  you  were  destined  to  be 
come  rather  friendly  with  young  Cardigan.  When 
that  fellow  desires  to  be  agreeable,  he  can  be  rather  a 
likable  boy — lovable,  even.  You  are  both  young;  with 
young  people  who  have  many  things  in  common  and  are 
thrown  together  in  a  community  like  Sequoia,  a  lively 
friendship  may  develop  into  an  ardent  love;  and  it  has 
been  my  experience  that  ardent  love  not  infrequently 
leads  to  the  altar." 

Shirley  blushed,  and  her  uncle  chuckled  good-na 
turedly.  "Fortunately,"  he  continued,  "Bryce  Car-, 


232         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

digan  had  the  misfortune  to  show  himself  to  you  in 
his  true  colours,  and  you  had  the  good  sense  to  dismiss 
him.  Consequently  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  not 
explain  to  you  now  what  I  considered  it  the  part  of  wis 
dom  to  withhold  from  you  at  that  time — provided,  of 
course,  that  all  this  does  not  bore  you  to  extinction." 

"Do  go  on,  Uncle  Seth.  I'm  tremendously  inter 
ested,"  averred  Shirley. 

"Shortly  after  I  launched  the  Laguna  Grande  Lum 
ber  Company — in  which,  as  your  guardian  and  executor 
of  your  father's  estate,  I  deemed  it  wise  to  invest 
part  of  your  inheritance — I  found  myself  forced  to  seek 
further  for  sound  investments  for  your  surplus  funds. 
Now,  good  timber,  bought  cheap,  inevitably  will  be 
sold  dear.  At  least,  such  has  been  my  observation 
during  a  quarter  of  a  century — and  old  John  Cardigan 
had  some  twenty  thousand  acres  of  the  finest  redwood 
timber  in  the  State — timber  which  had  cost  him  an 
average  price  of  less  than  fifty  cents  per  thousand. 

"Well,  in  this  instance  the  old  man  had  overreached 
himself,  and  finding  it  necessary  to  increase  his  work 
ing  capital,  he  incorporated  his  holdings  into  the  Cardi 
gan  Redwood  Lumber  Company  and  floated  a  bond- 
issue  of  a  million  dollars.  They  were  twenty-year 
six  per  cent,  certificates;  the  security  was  ample, 
and  I  invested  for  you  three  hundred  thousand  dollars 
in  Cardigan  bonds.  I  bought  them  at  eighty,  and  they 
were  worth  two  hundred ;  at  least,  they  would  have  been 
worth  two  hundred  under  my  management " 

"How  did  you  manage  to  buy  them  so  cheap?"  she  in* 
terrupted. 

"Old  Cardigan  had  had  a  long  run  of  bad  luck — due 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         233 

to  bad  management  and  bad  judgment,  my  dear — and 
when  a  corporation  is  bonded,  the  bondholders  have 
access  to  its  financial  statements.  From  time  to  time 
I  discovered  bondholders  who  needed  money  and  hence 
unloaded  at  a  sacrifice;  but  by  far  the  majority  of  the 
bonds  I  purchased  for  your  account  were  owned  by  local 
people  who  had  lost  confidence  in  John  Cardigan  and 
the  future  of  the  redwood  lumber  industry  hereabouts. 
You  understand,  do  you  not?" 

"I  do  not  understand  what  all  this  has  to  do  with  a 
railroad." 

"Very  well — I  shall  proceed  to  explain."  He  held 
up  his  index  finger.  "Item  one:  For  years  old  John 
Cardigan  has  rendered  valueless,  because  inaccessi 
ble,  twenty-five  hundred  acres  of  Laguna  Grande 
timber  on  Squaw  Creek.  -  His  absurd  Valley  of  the 
Giants  blocks  the  outlet,  and  of  course  he  persisted 
in  refusing  me  a  right  of  way  through  that  little  dab 
of  timber  in  order  to  discourage  me  and  force  me  to  sell 
him  that  Squaw  Creek  timber  at  his  price." 

"Yes,"  Shirley  agreed,  "I  dare  say  that  was  his  ob 
ject.  Was  it  reprehensible  of  him,  Uncle  Seth?" 

"Not  a  bit,  my  dear.  He  was  simply  playing  the  cold 
game  of  business.  I  would  have  done  the  same  thing  to 
Cardigan  had  the  situation  been  reversed.  We  played 
a  game  together — and  I  admit  that  he  won,  fairly  and 
squarely." 

"Then  why  is  it  that  you  feel  such  resentment  against 
him?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  resent  the  old  fool,  Shirley.  He  merely 
annoys  me.  I  suppose  I  feel  a  certain  natural  chagrin 
at  having  been  beaten,  and  in  consequence  cherish  an 


234         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

equally  natural  desire  to  pay  the  old  schemer  back  in 
his  own  coin.  Under  the  rules  as  we  play  the  game, 
such  action  on  my  part  is  perfectly  permissible,  is  it 
not?" 

"Yes,"  she  agreed  frankly,  "I  think  it  is,  Uncle  Seth. 
Certainly,  if  he  blocked  you  and  rendered  your  timber 
valueless,  there  is  no  reason  why,  if  you  have  tlie  oppor 
tunity,  you  should  not  block  him — and  render  his  tim 
ber  valueless." 

The  Colonel  banged  the  table  with  his  fist  so  heartily 
that  the  silver  fairly  leaped.  "Spoken  like  a  man! "  he 
declared.  "I  have  the  opportunity  and  am  proceeding 
to  impress  the  Cardigans  with  the  truth  of  the  old  saying 
that  every  dog  must  have  his  day.  When  Cardigan's 
contract  with  our  road  for  the  hauling  of  his  logs  expires 
by  limitation  next  year,  I  am  not  going  to  renew  it — at 
least  not  until  I  have  forced  him  to  make  me  the  con 
cessions  I  desire,  and  certainly  not  at  the  present  ruin 
ous  freight-rate." 

"Then,"  said  Shirley  eagerly,  "if  you  got  a  right  of 
Way  through  his  Valley  of  the  Giants,  you  would  renew 
the  contract  he  has  with  you  for  the  hauling  of  his  logs, 
would  you  not?" 

"I  v/ould  have,  before  young  Cardigan  raised  such 
Hades  that  day  in  the  logging-camp,  before  old  Cardi 
gan  sold  his  Valley  of  the  Giants  to  another  burglar — 
and  before  I  had  gathered  indubitable  evidence  that 
neither  of  the  Cardigans  knows  enough  about  manag 
ing  a  sawmill  and  selling  lumber  to  guarantee  a  rea 
sonable  profit  on  the  capital  they  have  invested  and 
still  pay  the  interest  on  their  bonded  and  floating  in 
debtedness.  Shirley,  I  bought  those  Cardigan  bonds 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GLINTS    235 

for  you  because  I  thought  old  Cardigan  knew  his 
business  and  would  make  the  bonds  valuable — make 
them  worth  par.  Instead,  the  Cardigan  Redwood 
Lumber  Company  is  tottering  on  the  verge  of  bank 
ruptcy:  the  bonds  I  purchased  for  you  are  now  worth 
less  than  I  paid  for  them,  and  by  next  year  the  Cardi 
gans  will  default  on  the  interest. 

"So  I'm  going  to  sit  tight  and  decline  to  have  any 
more  business  dealings  with  the  Cardigans.  When  their 
hauling  contract  expires,  I  shall  not  renew  it  under  any 
circumstances;  that  wrill  prevent  them  from  getting 
logs,  and  so  they  will  automatically  go  out  of  the  lumber 
business  and  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver;  and  since 
you  are  the  largest  individual  stockholder,  I,  represent 
ing  you  and  a  number  of  minor  bondholders,  will  domi 
nate  the  executive  committee  of  the  bondholders  when 
they  meet  to  consider  what  shall  be  done  when  the 
Cardigans  default  on  their  interest  and  the  payment  due 
the  sinking  fund.  I  shall  then  have  myself  appointed 
receiver  for  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company, 
investigate  its  affairs  thoroughly,  and  see  for  myself 
whether  or  no  there  is  a  possibility  of  working  it  out  of 
the  jam  it  is  in  and  saving  you  a  loss  on  your  bonds. 

"I  must  pursue  this  course,  my  dear,  in  justice  to  you 
and  the  other  bondholders.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  I 
find  the  situation  hopeless  or  conclude  that  a  period  of 
several  years  must  ensue  before  the  Cardigans  work  out 
of  debt,  I  shall  recommend  to  the  bank  which  holds 
the  deed  of  trust  and  acts  as  trustee,  that  the  property 
be  sold  at  public  auction  to  the  highest  bidder  to  reim 
burse  the  bondholders.  Of  course,"  lie  hastened  to  add, 
"if  the  property  sells  for  more  than  the  corporation  owes 


236         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

such  excess  will  then  in  due  course  be  turned  over  to  the 
Cardigans." 

"Is  it  likely  to  sell  at  a  price  in  excess  of  the  in 
debtedness?"  Shirley  queried  anxiously. 

"It  is  possible,  hut  scarcely  probable,"  he  answered 
dryly.  "I  have  in  mind,  under  those  circumstances, 
bidding  the  property  in  for  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber 
Company  and  merging  it  with  our  holdings,  paying 
part  of  the  purchase-price  of  the  Cardigan  property  in 
Cardigan  bonds,  and  the  remainder  in  cash." 

"But  what  will  the  Cardigans  do  then,  Uncle  Seth?* 

"Well,  long  before  the  necessity  for  such  a  con 
tingency  arises,  the  old  man  will  have  been  gathered  to 
the  bosom  of  Abraham;  and  after  the  Cardigan  Red 
wood  Lumber  Company  has  ceased  to  exist,  young 
Cardigan  can  go  to  work  for  a  living." 

"Would  you  give  him  employment,  Uncle  Seth?" 

"I  would  not.  Do  you  think  I'm  crazy,  Shirley? 
Remember,  my  dear,  there  is  no  sentiment  in  business. 
If  there  was,  we  wouldn't  have  any  business." 

"I  think  I  understand,  Uncle  Seth — with  the  excep 
tion  of  what  effect  the  building  of  the  N.  C.  O.  has  upon 
your  plans." 

"Item  two,"  he  challenged,  and  ticked  it  off  on  his 
middle  finger.  "The  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber 
Company  owns  two  fine  bodies  of  redwood  timber  widely 
separated — one  to  the  south  of  Sequoia  in  the  San 
Hedrin  watershed  and  at  present  practically  valueless 
because  inaccessible,  and  the  other  to  the  north  of 
Sequoia,  immediately  adjoining  our  holdings  in  Town 
ship  Nine  and  valuable  becaus^  of  its  accessibility." 
He  paused  a  moment  and  looked  at  her  smilingly. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         237 

**The  logging  railroad  of  our  corporation,  the  Laguna 
Grande  Lumber  Company,  makes  it  accessible.  Now, 
while  the  building  of  the  N.  C.  O.  would  be  a  grand 
thing  for  the  county  in  general,  we  can  get  along 
without  it  because  it  doesn't  help  us  out  particularly. 
We  already  have  a  railroad  running  from  our  timber 
to  tidewater,  and  we  can  reach  the  markets  of  the 
World  with  our  ships.5' 

"I  think  I  understand,  Uncle  Seth.  When  Cardi 
gan's  hauling  contract  with  our  road  expires,  his  timber 
in  Township  Nine  will  depreciate  in  value  because  it 
will  no  longer  be  accessible,  while  our  timber,  being  still 
accessible,  retains  its  value." 

"Exactly.  And  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  you, 
Shirley,  I  do  not  want  Cardigan's  timber  in  Township 
Nine  given  back  its  value  through  accessibility  provided 
by  the  N.  C.  O.  If  that  road  is  not  built,  Cardigan's 
timber  in  Towns-hip  Nine  will  be  valuable  to  us,  but 
not  to  another  living  soul.  Moreover,  the  Trinidad 
Redwood  Timber  Company  has  a  raft  of  fine  timber 
still  farther  north  and  adjoining  the  holdings  of  our 
company  and  Cardigan's,?  and  if  this  infernal  N.  C.  O. 
isn't  built,  we'll  be  enabled  to  buy  that  Trinidad 
timber  pretty  cheap  one  of  these  bright  days,  too." 

"All  of  which  appears  to  me  to  constitute  sound 
business  logic,  Uncle  Seth." 

He  nodded.  "Item  three,"  he  continued,  and 
ticked  it  off  on  his  third  finger:  "I  want  to  see  the 
feeder  for  a  transcontinental  line  built  into  Sequoia 
from  the  south,  for  the  reason  that  it  will  tap  the 
Cardigan  holdings  in  the  San  Hedrin  watershed  and 
a  tremendous  value  to  timber  which  at  the  present 


238         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

time  is  rather  a  negative  asset;  consequently  I  would 
prefer  to  have  that  value  created  after  Cardigan's  San 
Hedrin  timber  has  been  merged  with  the  assets  of  the 
Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company." 

"And  so " 

"I  must  investigate  this  N.  C.  O.  outfit  and  block  it 
if  possible — and  it  should  be  possible." 

"How,  for  instance?" 

"I  haven't  considered  the  means,  my  dear.  Those 
come  later.  For  the  present  I  am  convinced  that  the 
N.  C.  O.  is  a  corporate  joke,  sprung  on  the  dear  public 
by  the  Trinidad  Redwood  Timber  Company  to  get  the 
said  dear  public  excited,  create  a  real-estate  boom,  and 
boost  timber- values.  Before  the  boom  collapses — a 
condition  which  will  follow  the  collapse  of  the  N.  C.  O. 
— the  Trinidad  people  hope  to  sell  their  holdings  and 
get  from  under." 

"Really,"  said  Shirley,  demurely,  "the  more  I  see 
of  business,  the  more  fascinating  I  find  it." 

"Shirley,  it's  the  grandest  game  in  the  world." 

"And  yet,"  she  added  musingly,  "old  Mr.  Cardigan 
is  so  blind  and  helpless." 

"They'll  be  saying  that  about  me  some  day  if  I  live 
to  be  as  old  as  John  Cardigan." 

"Nevertheless,  I  feel  sorry  for  him,  Uncle  Seth." 

"Well,  if  you'll  continue  to  waste  your  sympathy  on 
him  rather  than  on  his  son,  I'll  not  object,"  he  retorted 
laughingly. 

"Oh,  Bryce  Cardigan  is  able  to  take  care  of  him 
self." 

"Yes,  and  mean  enough." 

"He  saved  our  lives,  Uncle  Seth." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         239 

"He  had  to — in  order  to  save  his  own.  Don't  forget 
that,  my  dear."  Carefully  he  dissected  a  sand-dab 
and  removed  the  backbone.  "I'd  give  a  ripe  peach  to 
learn  the  identity  of  the  scheming  buttinsky  who 
bought  old  Cardigan's  Valley  of  the  Giants,"  he  said 
presently.  "I'll  be  hanged  if  that  doesn't  complicate 
matters  a  little." 

"You  should  have  bought  it  when  the  opportunity 
offered,"  she  reminded  him.  "You  could  have  had  it 
then  for  fifty  thousand  dollars  less  than  you  would  have 
paid  for  it  a  year  ago — and  I'm  sure  that  should  have 
been  sufficient  indication  to  you  that  the  game  you 
and  the  Cardigans  had  been  playing  so  long  had  come 
to  an  end.  He  was  beaten  and  acknowledged  it,  and 
I  think  you  might  have  been  a  little  more  generous  to 
your  fallen  enemy,  Uncle  Seth." 

"I  dare  say,"  he  admitted  lightly.  "However,  I 
wasn't,  and  now  I'm  going  to  be  punished  for  it,  my 
dear:  so  don't  roast  me  any  more.  By  the  way,  that 
speckled  hot-air  fellow  Ogilvy,  who  is  promoting  the 
Northern  California  Oregon  Railroad,  is  back  in  town 
again.  Somehow,  I  haven't  much  confidence  in  that 
fellow.  I  think  I'll  wire  the  San  Francisco  office  to  look 
him  up  in  Dun's  and  Bradstreet's.  Folks  up  this  way 
are  taking  too  much  for  granted  on  that  fellow's  mere 
say-so,  but  I  for  one  intend  to  delve  for  facts — 
particularly  with  regard  to  the  N.  C.  O.  bank-roll  and 
Ogilvy's  associates.  I'd  sleep  a  whole  lot  more  soundly 
to-night  if  I  knew  the  answer  to  two  very  important 
questions." 

"What  are  they,  Uncle  Seth?" 

"Well,  I'd  like  to  know  whether  the  N.  C.  O.  is 


240         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GLINTS 

genuine  or  a  screen  to  hide  the  operations  of  the  Trim, 
dad  Redwood  Timber  Company." 

"It  might,"  said  Shirley,  with  one  of  those  sudden 
flashes  of  intuition  peculiar  to  women,  "be  a  screen  to 
hide  the  operations  of  Bryce  Cardigan.  Now  that  he 
knows  you  aren't  going  to  renew  his  hauling  contract, 
he  may  have  decided  to  build  his  own  logging  railroad." 

After  a  pause  the  Colonel  made  answer:  "No,  I 
have  no  fear  of  that.  It  would  cost  five  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  to  build  that  twelve-mile  line  and  bridge 
Mad  River,  and  the  Cardigans  haven't  got  that  amount 
of  money.  What's  more,  they  can't  get  it." 

"But  suppose,"  she  persisted,  "that  the  real  builder 
of  the  road  should  prove  to  be  Bryce  Cardigan,  after  all, 
.What  would  you  do?" 

Colonel  Pennington's  eyes  twinkled.  "  I  greatly  fear, 
my  dear,  I  should  make  a  noise  like  something  doing." 

"Suppose  you  lost  the  battle." 

"  In  that  event  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company 
wouldn't  be  any  worse  off  than  it  is  at  present.  The 
principal  loser,  as  I  view  the  situation,  would  be  Miss 
Shirley  Sumner,  who  has  the  misfortune  to  be  loaded 
up  with  Cardigan  bonds.  And  as  for  Bryce  Cardigan 
— well,  that  young  man  would  certainly  know  he'd  been 
'through  a  fight." 

"I  wonder  if  he'll  fight  to  the  last,  Uncle  Seth." 

"Why,  I  believe  he  will,"  Pennington  replied  soberly. 

"I'd  love  to  see  you  beat  him." 

" Shirley !  Why,  my  dear,  you're  growing  ferocious." 
Her  uncle's  tones  were  laden  with  banter,  but  his 
fcountenance  could  not  conceal  the  pleasure  her  last 
remark  had  given  him. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         241 

"Why  not?    I  have  something  at  stake,  have  I  not?  " 

"Then  you  really  want  me  to  smash  him?*'  The 
Colonel's  voice  proclaimed  his  incredulity. 

"You  got  me  into  this  fight  by  buying  Cardigan 
bonds  for  me,"  she  replied  meaningly,  "and  I  look  to 
you  to  save  the  investment  or  as  much  of  it  as  possible; 
for  certainly,  if  it  should  develop  that  the  Cardigans 
are  the  real  promoters  of  the  N.  C.  O.,  to  permit  them 
to  go  another  half -million  dollars  into  debt  in  a  forlorn 
hope  of  saving  a  company  already  top-heavy  with  in 
debtedness  wouldn't  savor  of  common  business  sense. 
Would  it?" 

The  Colonel  rose  hastily,  came  around  the  table,  and 
kissed  her  paternally.  "My  dear,"  he  murmured, 
"you're  such  a  comfort  to  me.  Upon  my  word,  you 
are." 

"I'm  so  glad  you  have  explained  the  situation  to  me, 
Uncle  Seth." 

"I  would  have  explained  it  long  ago  had  I  not  cher 
ished  a  sneaking  suspicion  that — er — well,  that  despite 
everything,  young  Cardigan  might — er — influence  you 
against  your  better  judgment  and — er — mine." 

"You  silly  man!" 

He  shrugged.  "One  must  figure  every  angle  of  a 
possible  situation,  my  dear,  and  I  should  hesitate  to 
start  something  with  the  Cardigans,  and  have  you, 
because  of  foolish  sentiment,  call  off  my  dogs." 

Shirley  thrust  out  her  adorable  chin  aggressively. 
"Sick  'em,  Tige!"  she  answered.  "Shake  'em  up, 
boy!" 

"  You  bet  I'll  shake  'em  up,"  the  Colonel  declared 
joyously.  He  paused  with  a  morsel  of  food  on  his 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

fork  and  waved  the  fork  at  her  aggressively.  "You 
stimulate  me  into  activity,  Shirley.  My  mind  has  been 
singularly  dull  of  late;  I  have  worried  unnecessarily, 
out  now  that  I  know  you  are  with  me,  I  am  inspired. 
I'll  tell  you  how  we'll  fix  this  new  railroad,  if  it  exhibits 
signs  of  being  dangerous."  Again  he  smote  the  table. 
"We'll  sew  'em  up  tighter  than  a  new  buttonhole." 

"Do  tell  me  how,"  she  pleaded  eagerly. 

"I'll  block  them  on  their  franchise  to  run  over  the 
city  streets  of  Sequoia." 

"How?" 

"By  making  the  mayor  and  the  city  council  see  things 
my  way,"  he  answered  dryly.  "Furthermore,  in 
order  to  enter  Sequoia,  the  N.  C.  O.  will  have  to  cross 
the  tracks  of  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company's 
line  on  Water  Street — make  a  jump-crossing — and  I'll 
enjoin  them  and  hold  them  up  in  the  courts  till  the  cows 
come  home." 

"Uncle  Seth,  you're  a  wizard." 

"Well,  at  least  I'm  no  slouch  at  looking  after  my  own 
interests — and  yours,  Shirley.  In  the  midst  of  peace  we 
should  be  prepared  for  war.  You've  met  Mayor  Pound- 
stone  and  his  lady,  haven't  you?" 

"I  had  tea  at  her  house  last  week." 

"Good  news.  Suppose  you  invite  her  and  Pound- 
stone  here  for  dinner  some  night  this  week.  Just  a 
quiet  little  family  dinner,  Shirley,  and  after  dinner  you 
can  take  Mrs.  Poundstone  upstairs,  on  some  pretext  or 
other,  while  I  sound  Poundstone  out  on  his  attitude 
toward  the  N.  C.  O.  They  haven't  asked  for  a  fran 
chise  yet;  at  least,  the  Sentinel  hasn't  printed  a  word 
about  it-  but  when  they  do,  of  course  the  franchise  will 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         243 

be  advertised  for  sale  to  the  highest  bidder.  Natur 
ally,  I  don't  want  to  bid  against  them;  they  might  run 
the  price  up  on  me  and  leave  me  with  a  franchise  on 
my  hands — something  I  do  not  want,  because  I  have 
no  use  for  the  blamed  thing  myself.  I  feel  certain, 
however,  I  can  find  some  less  expensive  means  of  keep 
ing  them  out  of  it — say  by  convincing  Pounds  tone  and 
a  majority  of  the  city  council  that  the  N.  C.  O.  is  not 
such  a  public  asset  as  its  promoters  claim  for  it. 
Hence  I  think  it  wise  to  sound  the  situation  out  in 
advance,  don't  you,  my  dear?" 

She  nodded.  "I  shall  attend  to  the  matter,  Uncle 
Seth." 

Five  minutes  after  dinner  was  over,  Shirley  joined 
her  uncle  in  the  library  and  announced  that  His  Honor, 
the  Mayor,  and  Mrs.  Poundstone,  would  be  delighted 
k>  dine  with  them  on  the  following  Thursday  night. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

TO  RETURN  to  Bryce  Cardigan: 
Having  completed  his  preliminary  plans  to 
build  the  N.  C.  O.,  Bryce  had  returned  to  Se 
quoia,  prepared  to  sit  quietly  on  the  side-lines  and  watch 
his  peppery  henchman  Buck  Ogilvy  go  into  action. 
The  more  Bryce  considered  that  young  man's  fitness  for 
the  position  he  occupied,  the  more  satisfied  did  he  be 
come  with  his  decision.     While  he  had  not  been  in  touch 
with  Ogilvy  for  several  years,  he  had  known  him  inti 
mately  at  Princeton. 

In  his  last  year  at  college  Ogilvy 's  father,  a  well- 
known  railroad  magnate,  had  come  a  disastrous  crop 
per  in  the  stock  market,  thus  throwing  Buck  upon  his 
own  resources  and  cutting  short  his  college  career — 
which  was  probably  the  very  best  thing  that  could  hap 
pen  to  his  father's  son.  For  a  brief  period — perhaps 
five  minutes — Buck  had  staggered  under  the  blow;  then 
his  tremendous  optimism  had  asserted  itself,  and  while 
he  packed  his  trunk,  he  had  planned  for  the  future.  As 
to  how  that  future  had  developed,  the  reader  will  have 
gleaned  some  slight  idea  from  the  information  imparted 
in  his  letter  to  Bryce  Cardigan,  already  quoted.  In  a 
word,  Mr.  Ogilvy  had  had  his  ups  and  downs. 

Ogilvy 's  return  to  Sequoia  following  his  three- weeks 
tour  in  search  of  rights  of  way  for  the  N.  C.  O.  was  her 
alded  by  a  visit  from  him  to  Bryce  Cardigan  at  the  lat- 

244 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         245 

ter's  office.  As  he  breasted  the  counter  in  the  general 
office,  Moira  McTavish  left  her  desk  and  came  over  to 
see  what  the  visitor  desired. 

"I  should  like  to  see  Mr.  Bryce  Cardigan,"  Buck 
began  in  crisp  businesslike  accents.  He  was  fumbling 
in  his  card-case  and  did  not  look  up  until  about  to  hand 
his  card  to  Moira — when  his  mouth  flew  half  open,  the 
while  he  stared  at  her  with  consummate  frankness. 
The  girl's  glance  met  his  momentarily,  then  was  low 
ered  modestly;  she  took  the  card  and  carried  it  to 
Bryce. 

"Hum-m-m!"  Bryce  grunted.  "That  noisy  fellow 
Ogilvy,  eh?" 

"His  clothes  are  simply  wonderful — and  so  is  his 
voice.  He's  very  refined.  But  he's  carroty  red  and  has 
freckled  hands,  Mr.  Bryce." 

Bryce  rose  and  sauntered  into  the  general  office. 

"Mr.  Bryce  Cardigan?"  Buck  queried  politely, 
with  an  interrogative  lift  of  his  blond  eyebrows. 

"At  your  service,  Mr.  Ogilvy.     Please  come  in." 

"  Thank  you  so  much,  sir."  He  followed  Bryce  to  the 
latter's  private  office,  closed  the  door  carefully  behind 
him,  and  stood  with  his  broad  back  against  it. 

"Buck,  are  you  losing  your  mind?"  Bryce  de 
manded. 

"Losing  it?     I  should  say  not.     I've  just  lost  it." 

"I  believe  you.  If  you  were  quite  sane,  you  wouldn't 
run  the  risk  of  being  seen  entering  my  office." 

"Tut-tut,  old  dear!  None  of  that!  Am  I  not  the 
main-spring  of  the  Northern  California  Oregon  Rail 
road  and  privileged  to  run  the  destinies  of  that  soulless 
corporation  as  I  see  fit?"  He  sat  down,  crossed  his 


246         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

long  legs,  and  jerked  a  speckled  thumb  toward  the 
outer  office.  "I  was  sane  when  I  came  in  here,  but 
the  eyes  of  the  girl  outside — oh,  yow,  them  eyes!  I 
must  be  introduced  to  her.  And  you're  scolding  me 
for  coming  around  here  in  broad  daylight.  Why, 
you  duffer,  if  I  come  at  night,  d'ye  suppose  I'd  have 
met  her?  Be  sensible." 

"You  like  Moira's  eyes,  eh?" 

"I've  never  seen  anything  like  them.  Zounds,  I'm 
afire.  I  have  little  prickly  sensations,  like  ants  run 
ning  over  me.  How  can  you  be  insensate  enough  to 
descend  to  labour  with  an  houri  like  that  around?  Oh, 
man !  To  think  of  an  angel  like  that  working — to  think 
of  a  brute  like  you  making  her  work!" 

"Love  at  first  sight,  eh,  Buck?" 

"I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but  it's  nice.  Who  is  she?" 

"She's  Moira  McTavish,  and  you're  not  to  make 
love  to  her.  Understand?  I  can't  have  you  snooping 
around  this  office  after  to-day." 

Mr.  Ogilvy's  eyes  popped  with  interest.  "Oh,"  he 
breathed.  "  You  have  an  eye  to  the  main  chance  your 
self  have  you?  Have  you  proposed  to  the  lady  as 
yet?" 

"No,  you  idiot." 

"Then  I'll  match  you  for  her — or  rather  for  the 
chance  to  propose  first."  Buck  produced  a  dollar 
and  spun  it  in  the  air. 

"Nothing  doing,  Buck.     Spare  yourself  these  agon 
izing  suspicions.     The  fact  of  the  matter  is  that  you 
give  me  a  wonderful  inspiration.     I've  always  been 
afraid  Moira  would  fall  in  love  with  some  ordinary  f el- ' 
low  around  Sequoia — propinquity,  you  know " 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         247 

"  You  bet.  Propinquity's  the  stuff.  I'll  stick  around." 

" — and  I  ve  been  on  the  lookout  for  a  fine  man  to 
marry  her  off  to.  She's  too  wonderful  for  you,  Buck, 
but  in  time  you  might  learn  to  live  up  to  her." 

"Duck!    I'm  liable  to  kiss  you." 

"Don't  be  too  precipitate.  Her  father  used  to  be 
our  woods-boss.  I  fired  him  for  boozing." 

"I  wouldn't  care  two  hoots  if  her  dad  was  old  Nick 
himself.  I'm  going  to  marry  her — if  she'll  have  me. 
Ah,  the  glorious  creature!"  He  waved  his  long  arms 
despairingly.  "O  Lord,  send  me  a  cure  for  freckles. 
Bryce,  you'll  speak  a  kind  word  for  me,  won't  you — 
sort  of  boom  my  stock,  eh?  Be  a  good  fellow." 

"Certainly.  Now  come  down  to  earth  and  render 
a  report  on  your  stewardship." 

"I'll  try.  To  begin,  I've  secured  rights  of  way,  at  a 
total  cost  of  twelve  thousand,  one  hundred  and  three 
dollars  and  nine  cents,  from  the  city  limits  of  Sequoia 
to  the  southern  boundary  of  your  timber  in  Township 
Nine.  I've  got  my  line  surveyed,  and  so  far  as  the 
building  of  the  road  is  concerned,  I  know  exactly  what 
I'm  going  to  do,  and  how  and  when  I'm  going  to  do  it, 
once  I  get  my  material  on  the  ground." 

"What  steps  have  you  taken  toward  securing  your 
material?  " 

"Well,  I  can  close  a  favourable  contract  for  steel  rails 
with  the  Colorado  Steel  Products  Company.  Their 
schedule  of  deliveries  is  O.  K.  as  far  as  San  Francisco, 
but  it's  up  to  you  to  provide  water  transportation  from 
there  to  Sequoia." 

"W7e  can  handle  the  rails  on  our  steam  schooners* 
Next?" 


248         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"I  have  an  option  of  a  rattling  good  second-hand 
locomotive  down  at  the  Santa  Fe  shops,  and  the  Haw 
kins  &  Barnes  Construction  Company  have  offered  me 
a  steam  shovel,  half  a  dozen  flat-cars,  and  a  lot  of  fresnos 
and  scrapers  at  ruinous  prices.  This  equipment  is 
pretty  well  worn,  and  they  want  to  get  rid  of  it  before 
buying  new  stuff  for  their  contract  to  build  the  Arizona 
and  Sonora  Central.  However,  it  is  first-rate  equip 
ment  for  us,  because  it  will  last  until  we're  through  with 
it;  then  we  can  scrap  it  for  junk.  We  can  buy  or  rent 
teams  from  local  citizens  and  get  half  of  our  labour 
locally.  San  Francisco  employment  bureaus  will 
readily  supply  the  remainder,  and  I  have  half  a  dozen 
fine  boys  on  tap  to  boss  the  steam  shovel,  pile-driver, 
bridge-building  gang,  track-layer  and  construction 
gang.  And  as  soon  as  you  tell  me  how  I'm  to  get  my 
material  ashore  and  out  on  the  job,  I'll  order  it  and  get 
busy." 

"That's  exactly  where  the  shoe  begins  to  pinch, 
Pennington's  main-line  tracks  enter  the  city  along 
Water  Street,  with  one  spur  into  his  log-dump  and  an^ 
other  out  on  his  mill-dock.  From  the  main-line  tracks 
we  also  have  built  a  spur  through  our  drying-yard  out 
to  our  log-dump  and  a  switch-line  out  en  to  our  mill- 
dock.  We  can  unload  our  locomotive,  steam  shovel, 
and  flat-cars  on  our  own  wharf,  but  unless  Pennington 
gives  us  permission  to  use  his  main-line  tracks  out  to  a 
point  beyond  the  city  limits — where  a  Y  will  lead  off 
to  the  point  where  our  construction  begins — we're  up  a 
stump." 

"Suppose  he  refuses,  Bryce.     What  then?" 

"Why,  we'll  simply  have  to  enter  the  city  down 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         249 

front  Street,  paralleling  Pennington's  tracks  on  Watei* 
Street,  turning  down  B  Street,  make  a  jump-crossing 
of  Pennington's  line  on  Water  Street,  and  connecting 
with  the  spur  into  our  yard." 

"Can't  have  an  elbow  turn  at  Front  and  B  streets?" 

"Don't  have  to.  We  own  a  square  block  on  that 
corner,  and  we'll  build  across  it,  making  a  gradual 
turn." 

"See  here,  my  son,"  Buck  said  solemnly,  "is  this 
your  first  adventure  in  railroad  building?" 

Bryce  nodded.     , 

"I  thought  so;  otherwise  you  wouldn't  talk  so  con 
fidently  of  running  your  line  over  city  streets  and  mak- 
*ng  jump-crossings  on  your  competitor's  road.  If 
your  competitor  regards  you  as  a  menace  to  his  pocket- 
book,  he  can  give  you  a  nice  little  run  for  your  money 
and  delay  you  indefinitely." 

"I  realize  that,  Buck.  That's  why  I'm  not  ap 
pearing  in  this  railroad  deal  at  all.  If  Pennington 
suspected  I  was  back  of  it,  he'd  fight  me  before  the  city 
council  and  move  heaven  and  earth  to  keep  me  out  of  a 
franchise  to  use  the  city  streets  and  cross  his  line.  Or 
course,  since  his  main  line  runs  on  city  property,  under 
a  franchise  granted  by  the  city,  the  city  has  a  perfect 
right  to  grant  me  the  privilege  of  making  a  jump- 
crossing  of  his  line " 

"Will  they  do  it?  That's  the  problem.  If  they  will 
not,  you're  licked,  my  son,  and  I'm  out  of  a  job." 

"We  can  sue  and  condemn  a  right  of  way." 

"Yes,  but  if  the  city  council  puts  up  a  plea  that  it  is 
against  the  best  interests  of  the  city  to  grant  the  fran 
chise,  you'll  find  that  except  hi  most  extraordinary 


'250         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

cases,  the  courts  regard  it  as  against  public  policy  to 
give  judgment  against  a  municipality,  the  State  or  the 
Government  of  the  United  States.  At  any  rate,  they'll 
hang  ycu  up  in  the  courts  till  you  die  of  old  age;  and  as 
I  understand  the  matter,  you  have  to  have  this  line 
running  in  less  than  a  year,  or  go  out  of  business." 

Bryce  hung  his  head  thoughtfully.  "I've  been  too 
cocksure,"  he  muttered  presently.  "I  shouldn't  have 
spent  that  twelve  thousand  for  rights  of  way  until  I 
had  settled  the  matter  of  the  franchise." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  buy  any  rights  of  way  —  yet,"  Ogilvy 
hastened  to  assure  him.  "I've  only  signed  the  land 
owners  up  on  an  agreement  to  give  or  sell  me  a  right  of 
way  at  the  stipulated  figures  any  time  within  one  year 
from  date.  The  cost  of  the  surveying  gang  and  my 
salary  and  expenses  are  all  that  you  are  out  to  date." 

"Buck,  you're  a  wonder." 

"Not  at  all.  I've  merely  been  through  all  this  be 
fore  and  have  profited  by  my  experience.  Now,  then, 
to  get  back  to  our  muttons.  Will  the  city  council 
grant  you  a  franchise  to  enter  the  city  and  jump  Pen- 
nington's  tracks?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  Buck.  You'll  have  to  ask 
them  —  sound  them  out.  The  city  council  meets  Sat 
urday  morning." 

"They'll  meet  this  evening  —  in  the  private  dining 
room  of  the  Hotel  Sequoia,  if  I  can  arrange  it,"  Buck 
Ogilvy  declared  emphatically.  "I'm  going  to  have 
them  all  up  for  dinner  and  talk  the  matter  over.  I'm 
not  exactly  aged,  Bryce,  but  I've  handled  about  fifteen 
city  councils  and  county  boards  of  supervisors,  not  to 
mention  Mexican  and  Central  American 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

and  presidents,  in  my  day,  and  I  know  the  breed  from 
cover  to  cover.  Following  a  preliminary  conference, 
I'll  let  you  know  whether  you're  going  to  get  that 
franchise  without  difficulty  or  whether  somebody's 
itchy  palm  will  have  to  be  crossed  with  silver  first. 
Honest  men  never  temporize.  You  know  where  they 
stand,  but  a  grafter  temporizes  and  plays  a  waiting 
game,  hoping  to  wear  your  patience  down  to  the  point 
where  you'll  ask  him  bluntly  to  name  his  figure.  By 
the  way,  what  do  you  know  about  your  blighted  old 
city  council,  anyway?" 

"Two  of  the  five  councilmen  are  for  sale;  two  are 
honest  men — and  one  is  an  uncertain  quantity.  The 
mayor  is  a  politician.  I've  known  them  all  since 
boyhood,  and  if  I  dared  come  out  in  the  open,  I  think 
that  even  the  crooks  have  sentiment  enough  for  what 
the  Cardigans  stand  for  in  this  county  to  decline  to 
hold  me  up." 

"Then  why  not  come  out  in  the  open  and  save 
trouble  and  expense?" 

"  I  am  not  ready  to  have  a  lot  of  notes  called  on  me/' 
Bryce  replied  dryly.  "Neither  am  I  desirous  of  having 
the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company  start  a  riot 
in  the  redwood  lumber  market  by  cutting  prices  to  a 
point  where  I  would  have  to  sell  my  lumber  at  a  loss 
in  order  to  get  hold  of  a  little  ready  money.  Neither 
do  I  desire  to  have  trees  felled  across  the  right  of  way 
of  Pennington's  road  after  his  trainloads  of  logs  have 
gone  through  and  before  mine  have  started  from  the 
woods.  I  don't  want  my  log-landings  jammed  until  I 
can't  move,  and  I  don't  want  Pennington's  engineer 
to  take  a  curve  in  such  a  hurry  that  he'll  whip  my  loaded 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

logging-trucks  off  into  a  canon  and  leave  me  hung 
up  for  lack  of  rolling-stock.  I  tell  you,  the  man  has 
me  under  his  thumb,  and  the  only  way  I  can  escape  is 
to  slip  out  when  he  isn't  looking.  He  can  do  too  many 
things  to  block  the  delivery  of  my  logs  and  then  dub 
them  acts  of  God,  in  order  to  avoid  a  judgment  against 
him  on  suit  for  non-performance  of  his  hauling  contract 
with  this  company." 

"Hum-m-m!  Slimy  old  beggar,  isn't  he?  I  dare 
say  he  wouldn't  hesitate  to  buy  the  city  council  to  block 
you,  would  he?" 

"I  know  he'll  lie  and  steal.  I  dare  say  he'd  corrupt 
a  public  official." 

Buck  Ogilvy  rose  and  stretched  himself.  "I've 
got  my  work  cut  out  for  me,  haven't  I?"  he  declared 
with  a  yawn.  "However,  it'll  be  a  fight  worth 
while,  and  that  at  least  will  make  it  interesting. 
Well?" 

Bryce  pressed  the  buzzer  on  his  desk,  and  a  moment 
later  Moira  entered.  "Permit  me,  Moira,  to  present 
Mr.  Ogilvy.  Mr.  Ogilvy,  Miss  McTavish."  The  in 
troduction  having  been  acknowledged  by  both  parties, 
Bryce  continued:  "Mr.  Ogilvy  will  have  frequent 
need  to  interview  me  at  this  office,  Moira,  but  it  is  our 
joint  desire  that  his  visr! .::  here  shall  remain  a  profound 
secret  to  everybody  willi  the  exception  of  ourselves. 
To  that  e&d  he  will  hereafter  call  at  night,  when  this 
portion  of  the  town  is  absolutely  deserted.  You  have 
an  extra  key  to  the  office,  Moira.  I  wish  you  would 
give  it  to  Mr.  Ogilvy." 

The  girl  nodded.  "Mr.  Ogilvy  will  have  to  take 
pains  to  avoid  our  watchman,"  she  suggested. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         253 

"That  is  a  point  well  tal":n,  Moira.  Buck,  when 
you  call,  make  it  a  point  to  arrive  here  promptly  on 
the  hour.  The  watchman  will  be  down  in  the  mill 
then,  punching  the  time-clock." 

Again  Moira  inclined  her  dark  head  and  withdrew. 
Mr.  Buck  Ogilvy  groaned.  "  God  speed  the  day  when 
you  can  corne  out  from  under  and  I'll  be  permitted  ta 
call  during  office  hours,"  he  murmured.  He  picked 
up  his  hat  and  withdrew,  via  the  general  office.  Half 
an  hour  later,  Bryce  looked  out  and  saw  him  draped 
over  the  counter,  engaged  in  animated  conversation 
with  Moira  McTavish.  Before  Ogilvy  left,  he  had 
managed  to  impress  Moira  with  a  sense  of  the  disad 
vantage  under  which  he  laboured  through  being  forced, 
because  of  circumstances  Mr.  Cardigan  would  doubt 
less  relate  to  her  in  due  course,  to  abandon  all  hop® 
of  seeing  her  at  the  office — at  least  for  some  time  to 
come.  Then  he  spoke  feelingly  of  the  unmitigated 
horror  of  being  a  stranger  in  a  strange  town,  forced  to 
sit  around  hotel  lobbies  with  drummers  and  other  lost 
souls,  and  drew  from  Moira  the  assurance  that  it  wasn't 
more  distressing  than  having  to  sit  around  a  boarding- 
house  night  after  night  watching  old  women  tat  and 
tattle. 

This  was  the  opening  Budk  Ogilvy  had  sparred  for. 
Fixing  Moira  with  his  bright  blue  eyes,  he  grinned 
boldly  and  said :  "  Suppose,  Miss  McTavish,  we  start  a 
league  for  the  dispersion  of  gloom.  You  be  the  presi 
dent,  and  I'll  be  the  financial  secretary." 

"How  would  the  league  operate?"  Moira  demanded 
cautiously. 

"Well,  it  might  begin  by  giving  a  dinner  to  all  the 


254         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GLVNTS 

members,    followed   by    a   little   motor-trip   into   the 
country  next  Saturday  afternoon,"  Buck  suggested. 

Moira's  Madonna  glance  appraised  him  steadily. 
"I  haven't  known  you  very  long,  Mr.  Ogilvy,"  she  re 
minded  him. 

"Oh,  I'm  easy  to  get  acquainted  with,"  he  retorted 
lightly.  "Besides,  don't  I  come  well  recommended?" 
He  pondered  for  a  moment.  Then :  "I'll  tell  you  what, 
Miss  McTavish.  Suppose  we  put  it  up  to  Bryce  Car 
digan.  If  he  says  it's  all  right  we'll  pull  off  the  party. 
If  he  says  it's  all  wrong,  I'll  go  out  and  drown  myself 
— and  fairer  words  than  them  has  no  man  spoke/." 

"I'll  think  it  over,"  said  Moira. 

"By  all  means.  Never  decide  such  an  important 
matter  in  a  hurry.  Just  tell  me  your  home  telephone- 
number,  and  I'll  ring  up  at  seven  this  evening  for  your 
decision." 

Reluctantly  Moira  gave  him  the  number.  She  was 
not  at  all  prejudiced  against  this  carroty  stranger — in 
fact,  she  had  a  vague  suspicion  that  he  was  a  sure  cure 
for  the  blues,  an  ailment  which  she  suffered  from  all  too 
frequently;  and,  moreover,  his  voice,  his  respectful 
manner,  his  alert  eyes,  and  his  wonderful  clothing  were 
all  rather  alluring.  Womanlike,  she  was  flattered  at 
being  noticed — particularly  by  a  man  like  Ogilvy,  whom 
it  was  plain  to  be  seen  was  vastly  superior  to  any  male 
even  in  Sequoia,  with  the  sole  exception  of  Bryce 
Cardigan.  The  flutter  of  a  great  adventure  was  in 
Moira's  heart,  and  the  flush  of  a  thousand  roses  in  her 
cheeks  when,  Buck  Ogilvy  having  at  length  departed, 
she  went  into  Bryce's  private  office  to  get  his 
as  to  the  propriety  of  accepting  the  invitation. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         255 

Bryce  listened  to  her  gravely  as  with  all  the  sweet 
innocence  of  her  years  and  unworldliness  she  laid  the 
Ogilvy  proposition  before  him. 

"By  all  means,  accept,"  he  counselled  her.  "Buck 
Ogilvy  is  one  of  the  finest  gentlemen  you'll  ever  meet. 
I'll  stake  my  reputation  on  him.  You'll  find  him  vastly 
amusing,  Moira.  He'd  make  Niobe  forget  her  troubles, 
and  he  does  know  how  to  order  a  dinner." 

"Don't  you  think  I  ought  to  have  a  chaperon?" 

"Well,  it  isn't  necessary,  although  it's  good  form  in  & 
small  town  like  Sequoia,  where  everybody  knows 
everybody  else." 

"I  thought  so,"  Moira  murmured  thoughtfully. 
"I'll  ask  Miss  Sumner  to  come  with  us.  Mr.  Ogilvy 
won't  mind  the  extra  expense,  I'm  sure." 

"He'll  be  delighted,"  Bryce  assured  her  maliciously. 
"Ask  Miss  Sumner,  by  all  means." 

When  Moira  had  left  him,  Bryce  sighed.  "Gosh!" 
he  murmured.  "I  wish  I  could  go,  too." 

He  was  roused  from  his  bitter  introspections  pres 
ently  by  the  ringing  of  the  telephone.  To  his  amaze 
ment  Shirley  Sumaer  was  calling  him! 

"You're  a  wee  bit  surprised,  aren't  you,  Mr.  Car 
digan?"  she  said  teasingly. 

"I  am,"  he  answered  honestly.  "I  had  a  notion 
I  was  quite  persona  non  grata  with  you." 

"Are  you  relieved  to  find  you  are  not?  You  aren't, 
you  know." 

"  Thank  you.     I  am  relieved." 

"I  suppose  you're  wondering  why  I  have  telephoned 
to  you?" 

"No,  I  haven't  had  time.     The  suddenness  of  it  all 


256         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

has  left  me  more  or  less  dumb.  Why  did  you  ring 
up?" 

"I  wanted  some  advice.  Suppose  you  wanted  very,, 
very  much  to  know  what  two  people  were  talking 
about,  but  found  yourself  in  a  position  where  you 
couldn't  eavesdrop.  What  would  you  do?" 

"I  wouldn't  eavesdrop,"  he  told  her  severely.  " That 
isn't  a  nice  thing  to  do,  and  I  didn't  think  you  would 
contemplate  anything  that  isn't  nice." 

"I  wouldn't  ordinarily.  But  I  have  every  moral, 
ethical,  and  financial  right  to  be  a  party  to  that  con 
versation,  only — well " 

"With  you  present  there  would  be  no  conversation — • 
is  that  it?" 

"Exactly,  Mr.  Cardigan." 

"And  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  you  should 
know  what  is  said?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  do  not  intend  to  use  your  knowledge  of 
this  conversation,  when  gained,  for  an  illegal  or  un 
ethical  purpose?" 

"I  do  not.  On  the  contrary,  if  I  am  aware  of  what 
is  being  planned,  I  can  prevent  others  from  doing 
something  illegal  and  unethical." 

"In  that  event,  Shirley,  I  should  say  you  are  quite 
justified  in  eavesdropping." 

"But  how  can  I  do  it?  I  can't  hide  in  a  closet  and 
listen." 

"Buy  a  dictograph  and  have  it  hidden  in  the  room 
where  the  conversation  takes  place.  It  will  record 
every  word  of  it." 

"Where  can  I  buy  one?" 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         257 

"In  San  Francisco." 

"Will  you  telephone  to  your  San  Francisco  office 
and  have  them  buy  one  for  me  and  ship  it  to  you, 
together  with  directions  for  using.  George  Sea  Otter 
can  bring  it  over  to  me  when  it  arrives. " 

"Shirley,  this  is  most  extraordinary." 

"I  quite  realize  that.  May  I  depend  upon  you  to 
oblige  me  in  this  matter?" 

"Certainly.  But  why  pick  on  me,  of  all  persons, 
to  perform  such  a  mission  for  you?" 

"I  can  trust  you  to  forget  that  you  have  performed  it." 

"Thank  you.  I  think  you  may  safely  trust  me. 
And  I  shall  attend  to  the  matter  immediately." 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Cardigan.  How  is  your 
dear  old  father?  Moira  told  me  sometime  ago  that 
he  was  ill." 

"He's  quite  well  again,  thank  you.  By  the  way, 
Moira  doesn't  know  that  you  and  I  have  ever  met. 
Why  don't  you  tell  her?" 

"I  can't  answer  that  question — now.  Perhaps 
acme  day  I  may  be  in  a  position  to  do  so." 

"It's  too  bad  the  circumstarces  are  such  that  we, 
who  started  out  to  be  such  agreeable  friends,  see  so 
little  of  each  other,  Shirley." 

"Indeed,  it  is.  However,  it's  all  your  fault.  I 
have  told  you  once  how  you  can  obviate  that  distress 
ing  situation.  But  you're  so  stubborn,  Mr.  Cardigan." 

"I  haven't  got  to  the  point  where  I  like  crawling 
on  my  hands  and  knees,"  he  flared  back  at  her. 
"Even  for  your  sake,  I  decline  to  simulate  friendship 
or  tolerance  for  your  uncle;  heace  I  must  be  content  to 
let  matters  stand  as  they  are  between  us." 


258         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

She  laughed  lightly.  "So  you  are  still  uncompromis 
ingly  belligerent — still  after  Uncle  Seth's  scalp?" 

"Yes;  and  I  think  I'm  going  to  get  it.  At  any  rate, 
he  isn't  going  to  get  mine." 

"Don't  you  think  you're  rather  unjust  to  make  me 
suffer  for  the  sins  of  my  relative,Bryce?"she  demanded. 

She  had  called  him  by  his  first  name.  He  thrilled. 
"I'm  lost  in  a  quagmire  of  debts — I'm  helpless  no'w," 
he  murmured.  "I'm  not  fighting  for  myself  alone, 
but  for  a  thousand  dependents — for  a  principle — for  an 
ancient  sentiment  that  was  my  father's  and  is  now 
mine.  You  do  not  understand." 

"I  understand  more  than  you  give  me  credit  for, 
and  some  day  you'll  realize  it.  I  understand  just 
enough  to  make  me  feel  sorry  for  you.  I  understand 
what  even  my  uncle  doesn't  suspect  at  present,  and 
that  is  that  you're  the  directing  genius  of  the 
Northern  California,  Oregon  Railroad  and  hiding 
behind  your  friend  Ogilvy.  Now,  listen  to  me,  Bryce 
Cardigan:  You're  never  going  to  build  that  road. 
Do  you  understand?" 

The  suddenness  of  her  attack  amazed  him  to  such 
an  extent  that  he  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  contra 
dict  her.  Instead  he  blurted  out,  angrily  and  defiantly : 
"I'll  build  that  road  if  it  eosts  me  my  life — if  it  costs  me 
you.  Understand!  I'm  in  this  fight  to  win." 

"You  will  not  build  that  road,"  she  reiterated. 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  shall  not  permit  you  to.  I  have  some 
financial  interest  in  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Com 
pany,  and  it  is  not  to  that  financial  interest  that  you 
should  build  the  N.C.O." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS        259 

"How  did  you  find  out  I  was  behind  Ogilvy ? " 

"Intuition.  Then  I  accused  you  of  it,  and  you 
admitted  it." 

"I  suppose  you're  going  to  tell  your  uncle  now," 
he  retorted  witheringly. 

"On  the  contrary,  I  am  not.  I  greatly  fear  I  was 
born  with  a  touch  of  sporting  blood,  Mr.  Cardigan,  so 
I'm  going  to  let  you  two  fight  until  you're  exhausted, 
and  then  I'm  going  to  step  in  and  decide  the  issue. 
You  can  save  money  by  surrendering  now.  I  hold  the 
whip  hand." 

"I  prefer  to  fight.  With  your  permission  this  bout 
will  go  to  a  knockout." 

"  I'm  not  so  certain  I  do  not  like  you  all  the  more  for 
that  decision.  And  if  it  will  comfort  you  the  least 
bit,  you  have  my  word  of  honour  that  I  shall  not  reveal 
to  my  uncle  the  identity  of  the  man  behind  the  N.  C.  O. 
I'm  not  a  tattletale,  you  know,  and  moreover  I  have  a 
great  curiosity  to  get  to  the  end  of  the  story.  The  fact 
is,  both  you  and  Uncle  Seth  annoy  me  exceedingly. 
How  lovely  everything  would  have  been  if  you  two 
hadn't  started  this  feud  and  forced  upon  me  the  task 
of  trying  to  be  fair  and  impartial  to  you  both." 

"Can  you  remain  fair  and  impartial? " 

"I  think  I  can — even  up  to  the  point  of  deciding 
whether  or  not  yoji  are  going  to  build  that  road.  Then 
I  shall  act  independently  of  you  both.  Forgive  my 
slang,  but — I'm  going  to.  hand  you  each  a  poke 
then." 

"Shirley,"  he  told  her  earnestly,  "listen  carefully  to 
what  Pam  about  to  say :  I  love  you.  I've  loved  you  from 
the  day  I  first  met  you.  I  shall  always  love  you;  and 


260         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

when  I  get  around  to  it,  I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  marry 
me.  At  present,  however,  that  is  a  right  I  do  not 
possess.  However,  the  day  I  acquire  the  right  I  shall 
exercise  it." 

"And  when  will  that  day  be?"  Very  softly,  in 
awesome  tones ! 

"The  day  I  drive  the  last  spike  in  the  N.  C.  O." 

Fell  a  silence.  Then:  "I'm  glad,  Bryce  Cardigan, 
you're  not  a  quitter.  Good-bye,  good  luck—and  don't 
forget  my  errand."  She  hung  up  and  sat  at  the  tele 
phone  for  a  moment,  dimpled  chin  in  dimpled  hand, 
her  glance  wandering  through  the  window  and  far 
away  across  the  roofs  of  the  town  to  where  the  smoke 
stack  of  Cardigan's  mill  cut  the  sky-line.  "How  I'd 
hate  you  if  I  could  handle  you!"  she  murmured. 

Following  this  exasperating  but  illuminating  con 
versation  with  Shirley  Sumner  over  the  telephone, 
Bryce  Cardigan  was  a  distressed  and  badly  worried 
man.  However,  Bryce  was  a  communicant  of  a  very 
simple  faith — to  wit,  that  one  is  never  whipped  till  one 
is  counted  out,  and  the  first  shock  of  Shirley's  discovery 
having  passed,  he  wasted  no  time  in  vain  repinings  but 
straightway  set  himself  to  scheme  a  way  out  of  his 
dilemma. 

For  an  hour  he  sat  slouched  in  his  chair,  chin  on 
breast,  the  while  he  reviewed  every  angle  of  the  situ 
ation.  He  found  it  impossible,  however,  to  dissociate 
the  business  from  the  personal  aspects  of  his  relations 
with  Shirley,  and  he  recalled  that  she  had  the  very 
best  of  reasons  for  placing  their  relations  on  a  business 
basis  rather  than  a  sentimental  one.  He  had  played  a 
part  in  their  little  drama  which  he  knew  must  have 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         261 


baffled  and  infuriated  her.  More,  had  she,  in 
delightful  few  days  of  their  early  acquaintance,  formed 
for  him  a  sentiment  somewhat  stronger  than  friend 
ship  (he  did  not  flatter  himself  that  this  was  so),  he 
could  understand  her  attitude  toward  him  as  that  of  the 
woman  scorned.  For  the  present,  however,  it  was  all 
a  profound  and  disturbing  mystery,  and  after  an  hour 
of  futile  concentration  there  came  to  Bryce  the  old 
childish  impulse  to  go  to  his  father  with  his  troubles. 
That  sturdy  old  soul,  freed  from  the  hot  passions  of 
youth,  its  impetuosity  and  its  proneness  to  consider 
cause  rather  than  effect,  had  weathered  too  many 
storms  in  his  day  to  permit  the  present  one  to  benumb 
his  brain  .as  it  had  his  son's. 

"He  will  be  able  to  think  without  having  his  thoughts 
blotted  out  by  a  woman's  face,"  Bryce  soliloquized. 
"He's  like  one  of  his  own  big  redwood  trees;  his  head 
is  always  above  the  storm." 

Straightway  Bryce  left  the  office  and  went  home  to 
the  old  house  on  the  knoll.  John  Cardigan  was 
sitting  on  the  veranda,  and  from  a  stand  beside  him 
George  Sea  Otter  entertained  him  with  a  phonograph 
selection  —  "The  Suwanee  River,"  sung  by  a  male 
quartet.  As  the  gate  clicked,  John  raised  his  head; 
then  as  Bryce's  quick  step  spurned  the  cement  walk 
up  the  little  old-fashioned  garden,  he  rose  and  stood 
with  one  hand  outstretched  and  trembling  a  little.  He 
could  not  see,  but  with  the  intuition  of  the  blind,  he 
knew. 

"What  is  it,  son?"  he  demanded  gently  as  Bryce 
came  up  the  low  steps.  "George,  choke  that  con 
traption  off/' 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Bryce  took  his  father's  hand.  "I'm  in  trouble, 
John  Cardigan,"  he  said  simply,  "and  I'm  not  big 
enough  to  handle  it  alone." 

The  leonine  old  man  smiled,  and  his  smile  had  all 
the  sweetness  of  a  benediction.  His  boy  was  in  trouble 
and  had  come  to  him.  Good!  Then  he  would  not 
fail  him.  "Sit  down,  son,  and  tell  the  old  man  all 
about  it.  Begin  at  the  beginning  and  let  me  have  all 
the  angles  of  the  angle." 

Bryce  obeyed,  and  for  the  first  time  John  Cardigan 
learned  of  his  son's  acquaintance  with  Shirley  Sumner 
and  the  fact  that  she  had  been  present  in  Pennington's 
woods  the  day  Bryce  had  gone  there  to  settle  the  score 
with  Jules  Rondeau.  In  the  wonderful  first  flush  of 
his  love  a  sense  of  embarrassment,  following  his  dis 
covery  of  the  fact  that  his  father  and  Colonel  Penning- 
ton  were  implacable  enemies,  had  decided  Bryce  not 
to  mention  the  matter  of  the  girl  to  John  Cardigan  until 
the  entente  cordiale  between  Pennington  and  his  father 
could  be  reestablished,  for  Bryce  had,  with  the  optimism 
of  his  years,  entertained  for  a  few  days  a  thought  that 
he  could  bring  about  this  desirable  condition  of  affairs. 
The  discovery  that  he  could  not,  together  with  his 
renunciation  of  his  love  until  he  should  succeed  in 
protecting  his  heritage  and  eliminating  the  despair  that 
had  come  upon  his  father  in  the  latter 's  old  age,  had 
further  operated  to  render  unnecessary  any  discussion 
of  the  girl  with  the  old  man. 

With  the  patience  and  gentleness  of  a  confessor  John 
Cardigan  heard  the  story  now,  and  though  Bryce  gave 
no  hint  in  words  that  his  affections  were  involved  in 
the  fight  for  the  Cardigan  acres,  yet  did  his  father  know 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         263 

It,  for  he  was  a  parent.     And  his  great  heart  went  out 
in  sympathy  for  his  boy. 

"I  understand,  sonny,  I  understand.  This  young 
lady  is  only  one  additional  reason  why  you  must  win, 
for  of  course  you  understand  she  is  not  indifferent  to 

you." 

"I  do  not  know  that  she  feels  for  me  anything 
stronger  than  a  vagrant  sympathy,  Dad,  for  while 
she  is  eternally  feminine,  nevertheless  she  has  a  mas 
culine  way  of  looking  at  many  things.  She  is  a  good 
comrade  with  a  bully  sense  of  sportsmanship,  and 
unlike  her  skunk  of  an  uncle,  she  fights  in  the  open. 
Under  the  circumstances,  however,  her  first  loyalty  is 
to  him;  in  fact,  she  owes  none  to  me.  And  I  dare  say 
he  has  given  her  some  extremely  plausible  reason  why 
we  should  be  eliminated;  while  I  think  she  is  sorry  that 
it  must  be  done,  nevertheless,  in  a  mistaken  impulse 
of  self -protection  she  is  likely  to  let  him  do  it." 

"Perhaps,  perhaps.  One  never  knows  why  a  woman 
does  things,  although  it  is  a  safe  bet  that  if  they're  with 
you  at  all,  they're  with  you  all  the  way.  Eliminate  the 
girl,  my  boy.  She's  trying  to  play  fair  to  you  and  her 
relative.  Let  us  concentrate  on  Pennington." 

"The  entire  situation  hinges  on  that  jump-crossing 
of  his  tracks  on  Water  Street." 

"He  doesn't  know  you  plan  to  cross  them,  does  he?" 

«XT      » 

JNo. 

"Then,  lad,  your  job  is  to  get  your  crossing  in  before 
he  finds  out,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  but  it  is  an  impossible  task,  partner.  I'm  not 
Aladdin,  you  know.  I  have  to  have  a  franchise  from 
the  city  council,  and  I  have  to  have  rails." 


264         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Both  are  procurable,  my  son.  Induce  the  city 
council  to  grant  you  a  temporary  franchise  to-morrow, 
and  buy  your  rails  from  Penning  ton.  He  has  a  mile 
of  track  running  up  Laurel  Creek,  and  Laurel  Creek  was 
logged  out  three  years  ago.  I  believe  that  spur  is 
useless  to  Pennington,  and  the  ninety-pound  rails  are 
rusting  there." 

"But  will  he  sell  them  to  me?" 

"Not  if  you  tell  him  why  you  want  them." 

,"But  he  hates  me,  old  pal." 

"The  Colonel  never  permits  sentiment  to  interfere 
with  business,  my  son.  He  doesn't  need  the  rails,  and 
lie  does  desire  your  money.  Consider  the  rail-problem 
settled." 

"How  do  you  stand  with  the  Mayor  and  the  council?" 

"I  do  not  stand  at  all.  I  opposed  Poundstone  for 
the  office;  Dobbs,  who  was  appointed  to  fill  a  vacancy 
caused  by  the  death  of  a  regularly  elected  councilman, 
was  once  a  bookkeeper  in  our  office,  you  will  remember. 
I  discharged  him  for  looting  the  petty-cash  drawer. 
Andrews  and  Mullin  are  professional  politicians  and 
not  to  be  trusted.  In  fact,  Poundstone,  Dobbs,  An 
drews,  and  Mullin  are  known  as  the  Solid  Four.  Yates 
and  Thatcher,  the  remaining  members  of  the  city 
council,  are  the  result  of  the  reform  ticket  last  fall,  but 
since  they  are  in  the  minority,  they  are  helpless." 

"That  makes  it  bad." 

"Not  at  all.  The  Cardigans  are  not  known  to  be 
connected  with  the  N.  C.  O.  Send  your  bright  friend 
Ogilvy  after  that  franchise.  He's  the  only  man  who 
can  land  it.  Give  him  a  free  hand  and  tell  him  to 
deliver  the  goods  by  any  means  short  of  bribery.  I 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         265 

imagine  he's  had  experience  with  city  councils  and  will 
know  exactly  how  to  proceed.  I  know  you  can  procure 
the  rails  and  have  them  at  the  intersection  of  B  and 
Water  streets  Thursday  night.  If  Ogilvy  can  procure 
the  temporary  franchise  and  have  it  in  his  pocket  by 
six  o'clock  Thursday  night,  you  should  have  that  cross 
ing  in  by  sunup  Friday  morning.  Then  let  Pennington 
rave.  He  cannot  procure  an  injunction  to  restrain 
us  from  cutting  his  tracks,  thus  throwing  the  matter 
into  the  courts  and  holding  us  up  indefinitely,  because, 
by  the  time  he  wakes  up,  the  tracks  will  have  been  cut. 
The  best  he  can  do  then  will  be  to  fight  us  before  the 
city  council  when  we  apply  for  our  permanent  franchise. 
Thank  God,  however,  the  name  of  Cardigan  carries 
weight  in  this  county,  and  with  the  pressure  of  publio 
sympathy  and  opinion  back  of  us,  we  may  venture,  my 
boy,  to  break  a  lance  with  the  Solid  Four,  should  they 
stand  with  Pennington." 

"Partner,  it  looks  like  a  forlorn  hope,"  said  Bryce. 

"Well,  you're  the  boy  to  lead  it.  And  it  will  cost 
but  little  to  put  in  the  crossing  and  take  a  chance. 
Remember,  Bryce,  once  we  have  that  crossing  in,  it 
stands  like  a  spite-fence  between  Pennington  and  the 
law  which  he  knows  so  well  how  to  pervert  to  suit  his 
ignoble  purposes."  He  turned  earnestly  to  Bryce  and 
waved  a  trembling  admonitory  finger.  "Your  job  is 
to  keep  out  of  court.  Once  Pennington  gets  the  law  on 
us,  the  issue  will  not  be  settled  in  our  favour  for  years; 
and  in  the  meantime — you  perish.  Run  along  now  and 
hunt  up  Ogilvy.  George,  play  that  'SuwaiMte  River' 
quartet  again.  It  sort  o'  soothes  me." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

IT  WAS  with  a  considerably  lighter  heart  that  Bryce 
returned  to  the  mill-office,  from  which  he  lost  no 
time  in  summoning  Buck  Ogilvy  by  telephone. 

"Thanks  so  much  for  the  invitation,"  Ogilvy  mur 
mured  gratefully.  "I'll  be  down  in  a  pig's  whisper.'* 
And  he  was.  "Bryce,  you  look  like  the  devil,"  he  de 
clared  the  moment  he  entered  the  latter's  private  office. 

"I  ought  to,  Buck.  I've  just  raised  the  devil  and 
spilled  the  beans  on  the  N.  C.  O." 

"To  whom,  when,  and  where?" 

"To  Pennington's  niece,  over  the  telephone  about 
two  hours  ago." 

Buck  Ogilvy  smote  his  left  palm  with  his  right  fist. 
"And  you've  waited  two  hours  to  confess  your  crime? 
Zounds,  man,  this  is  bad." 

"I  know.  Curse  me,  Buck.  I've  probably  talked 
you  out  of  a  good  job." 

"Oh,  say  not  so,  old  settler.  We  may  still  have  an 
out.  How  did  you  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag?" 

"That  remarkable  girl  called  me  up,  and  accused  you 
of  being  a  mere  screen  for  me  and  amazed  me  so  I 
admitted  it." 

Ogilvy  dropped  his  red  head  in  simulated  agony  and 
moaned.  Presently  he  raised  it  and  said:  "Well,  it 
might  have  been  worse.  Think  of  what  might  have 
happened  had  she  called  in  person.  She  would  have 
picked  your  pocket  for  the  corporate  seal,  the  com- 

266 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         267 

bination  of  the  safe,  and  the  list  of  stockholders,  and 
probably  ended  up  by  gagging  you  and  binding  you  in 
your  own  swivel-chair." 

"Don't,  Buck.  Comfort  and  not  abuse  is  what  I 
need  now." 

"All  righL  I'll  conclude  my  remarks  by  stating  that 
I  regard  you  as  a  lovable  fat-head  devoid  of  sufficient 
mental  energy  to  pound  the  proverbial  sand  into  the 
proverbial  rat-hole.  Now,  then,  what  do  you  want  me 
to  do  to  save  the  day?" 

"Deliver  to  me  by  six  o'clock  Thursday  night  a 
temporaiy  franchise  from  the  city  council,  granting 
the  N.  C.  O.  the  right  to  run  a  railroad  from  our  drying- 
yard  across  Water  Street  at  its  intersection  with  B  S  treet 
and  out  Front  Street." 

"Certainly.  By  all  means!  Easiest  thing  I  do! 
Sure  you  don't  want  me  to  arrange  to  borrow  a  star 
or  two  to  make  a  ta-ra-ra  for  the  lady  that's  made  a 
monkey  out  of  you?  No?  All  right,  old  dear!  I'm 
on  my  way  to  do  my  damnedest,  which  angels  can't 
do  no  more.  Nevertheless,  for  your  sins,  you  shall 
do  me  a  favour  before  my  heart  breaks  after  falling 
down  on  this  contract  you've  just  given  me." 

"Granted,  Buck.     Name  it." 

"I'm  giving  a  nice  little  private,  specially  cooked 
dinner  to  Miss  McTavish  to-night.  We're  going  to 
pull  it  off  in  one  of  those  private  screened  corrals  in 
that  highly  decorated  Chink  restauraw  on  Third  Street. 
Moira — that  is,  Miss  McTavish — is  bringing  a  chaperon, 
one  Miss  Shirley  Sumner.  Your  job  is  to  be  my 
chaperon  and  entertain  Miss  Sumner,  who  from  all 
accounts  is  most  brilliant  and  fascinating." 


268         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Nothing  doing!"  Bryce  almost  roared.  "Why,' 
she's  the  girl  that  bluffed  the  secret  of  the  N.  C.  O. 
out  of  me!" 

"Do  you  hate  her  for  it?" 

"No,  I  hate  myself." 

"Then  you'll  come.  You  promised  in  advance,  and 
no  excuses  go  now.  The  news  will  be  all  over  town  by 
Friday  morning;  so  why  bother  to  keep  up  appearances 
any  longer.  Meet  me  at  the  Canton  at  seven  and 
check  dull  care  at  the  entrance." 

And  before  Bryce  could  protest,  Ogilvy  had  thrown 
open  the  office  door  and  called  the  glad  tidings  to 
Moira,  who  was  working  in  the  next  room;  whereupon 
Moira's  wonderful  eyes  shone  with  that  strange  lambent 
flame.  She  clasped  her  hands  joyously.  "Oh,  how 
wonderful!"  she  exclaimed  "I've  always  wanted 
Miss  Shirley  to  meet  Mr.  Bryce." 

Again  Bryce  was  moved  to  protest,  but  Buck  Ogilvy 
reached  around  the  half-opened  door  and  kicked  him 
in  the  shins.  "Don't  crab  my  game,  you  miserable 
snarley-yow.  Detract  one  speck  from  that  girl's  pleas 
ure,  and  you'll  never  see  that  temporary  franchise," 
he  threatened.  "I  will  not  work  for  a  quitter — so, 
there!"  And  with  his  bright  smile  he  set  out  imme 
diately  upon  the  trail  of  the  city  council,  leaving  Bryce 
Cardigan  a  prey  to  many  conflicting  emotions,  the 
chief  of  which,  for  all  that  he  strove  to  suppress  it,  was 
riotous  joy  in  the  knowledge  that  while  he  had  fought 
against  it,  fate  had  decreed  that  he  should  bask  once 
more  in  the  radiance  of  Shirley  Sumner's  adorable 
presence ,  Presently,  for  the  first  time  in  many  weeks, 
Moira  heard  him  whistling  "Turkey  in  the  Straw." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

FORTUNATELY  for  the  situation  which  had  so 
suddenly  confronted  him,  Bryce  Cardigan  had 
Mr.  Buck  Ogilvy;  and  out  of  the  experiences 
gained  in  other  railroad-building  enterprises,  the  said 
Ogilvy,  while  startled,  was  not  stunned  by  the  sudden 
ness  and  immensity  of  the  order  so  casually  given  him 
by  his  youthful  employer,  for  he  had  already  devoted 
to  the  matter  of  that  crossing  the  better  part  of  the 
preceding  night.  Also  he  had  investigated,  indexed,  and 
cross-indexed  the  city  council  with  a  view  to  ascertain 
ing  how  great  or  how  little  would  be  the  effort  he 
must  devote  to  obtaining  from  it  the  coveted  franchise. 

"Got  to  run  a  sandy  on  the  Mayor,"  Buck  solilo 
quized  as  he  walked  rapidly  uptown.  "And  I'll  have 
to  be  mighty  slick  about  it,  too,  or  I'll  get  my  fingers 
in  the  jam.  If  I  get  the  Mayor  on  my  side — if  I  get 
him  to  the  point  where  he  thinks  well  of  me  and  would 
like  to  oblige  me  without  prejudicing  himself  financially 
or  politically — I  can  get  that  temporary  franchise. 
Now,  how  shall  I  proceed  to  sneak  up  on  that  oily  old 
cuss's  blind  side?" 

Two  blocks  farther  on,  Mr.  Ogilvy  paused  and 
snapped  his  fingers  vigorously.  "Eureka!"  he  mur 
mured.  "I've  got  Poundstone  by  the  tail  on  a  down 
hill  haul.  Is  it  a  cinch?  Well,  I  just  guess  I  should 
tell  a  man!" 


270         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

He  hurried  to  the  telephone  building  and  put  hi  a 
long-distance  call  for  the  San  Francisco  office  of  the 
Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company.  When  the 
manager  came  on  the  line,  Ogilvy  dictated  to  him  a 
message  which  he  instructed  the  manager  to  telegraph 
back  to  him  at  the  Hotel  Sequoia  one  hour  later;  this 
mysterious  detail  attended  to,  he  continued  on  to  the 
Mayor's  office  in  the  city  hall. 

Mayor  Poundstone's  bushy  eyebrows  arched  with 
interest  when  his  secretary  laid  upon  his  desk  the  card 
of  Mr.  Buchanan  Ogilvy,  vice-president  and  general 
manager  of  the  Northern  California  Oregon  Railroad. 
"  Ah-h-h!"  he  breathed  with  an  unpleasant  resemblance 
to  a  bon  vivant  who  sees  before  him  his  favourite  vin 
tage.  "I  have  been  expecting  Mr.  Ogilvy  to  call  for 
quite  a  while.  At  last  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see. 
Show  him  in." 

The  visitor  was  accordingly  admitted  to  the  great 
man's  presence  and  favoured  with  an  official  handshake 
of  great  heartiness.  "I've  been  hoping  to  have  this 
pleasure  for  quite  some  time,  Mr.  Poundstone,"  Buck 
announced  easily  as  he  disposed  of  his  hat  and  overcoat 
on  an  adjacent  chair.  "But  unfortunately  I  have  had 
so  much  preliminary  detail  to  attend  to  before  making 
an  official  call  that  at  last  I  grew  discouraged  and  con 
cluded  I'd  just  drop  in  informally  and  get  acquainted." 
Buck's  alert  blue  eyes  opened  wide  in  sympathy  with  his 
genial  mouth,  to  deluge  Mayor  Poundstone  with  a 
smile  that  was  friendly,  guileless,  confidential,  and  sin 
gularly  delightful.  Mr.  Ogilvy  was  a  man  possessed 
of  tremendous  personal  magnetism  when  he  chose  to 
exert  it,  and  that  smile  was  ever  the  opening  gun  of  his 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         £71 

magnetic  bombardment,  for  it  was  a  smile  that  always 
had  the  effect  of  making  the  observer  desire  to  behold 
it  again — of  disarming  suspicion  and  establishing  con 
fidence. 

"Glad  you  did — mighty  glad,"  the  Mayor  cried 
heartily.  "We  have  all,  of  course,  heard  of  your  great 
plans  and  are  naturally  anxious  to  hear  more  of  them, 
in  the  hope  that  we  can  do  all  that  anybody  reasonably 
and  legally  can  to  promote  your  enterprise  and  inci 
dentally  our  own,  since  we  are  not  insensible  to  the 
advantages  which  will  accrue  to  this  county  when  it  is 
connected  by  rail  with  the  outside  world." 

"That  extremely  broad  view  is  most  encouraging," 
Buck  chirped,  and  he  showered  the  Mayor  with 
another  smile.  "Reciprocity  is  the  watchword  of 
progress.  I  might  state,  however,  that  while  you  Hum- 
boldters  are  fully  alive  to  the  benefits  to  be  derived 
from  a  feeder  to  a  transcontinental  road,  my  associates 
and  myself  are  not  insensible  of  the  fact  that  the  suc 
cess  of  our  enterprise  depends  to  a  great  extent  upon 
the  enthusiasm  with  which  the  city  of  Sequoia  shall 
cooperate  with  us;  and  since  you  are  the  chief  executive 
of  the  city,  naturally  I  have  come  to  you  to  explain 
our  plans  fully." 

"I  have  read  your  articles  of  incorporation,  Mr. 
Ogilvy,"  Mayor  Poundstone  boomed  paternally.  "You 
will  recall  that  they  were  published  in  the  Sequoia 
Sentinel.  It  strikes  me " 

"Then  you  know  exactly  what  we  purpose  doing,  and 
any  further  explanation  would  be  superfluous,"  Buck 
interrupted  amiably,  glad  to  dispose  of  the  matter  so 
promptly.  Again  he  favoured  the  Mayor  with  his  bright 


272         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

smile,  and  the  latter,  now  fully  convinced  that  here 
was  a  young  man  of  vast  emprise  whom  it  behooved 
him  to  receive  in  a  whole-hearted  and  public-spirited 
manner,  nodded  vigorous  approval. 

"  Well,  that  being  the  case,  Mr.  Ogilvy,"  he  continued, 
"what  can  we  Sequoians  do  to  make  you  happy? " 

"Why,  to  begin  with,  Mr.  Pounclstone,  you  might 
accept  my  solemn  assurances  that  despite  the  skep 
ticism  which,  for  some  unknown  reason,  appears  to 
shroud  our  enterprise  in  the  minds  of  some  people, 
we  have  incorporated  a  railroad  company  for  the  pur 
pose  of  building  a  railroad.  We  purpose  commencing 
grading  operations  in  the  very  near  future,  and  the 
only  thing  that  can  possibly  interfere  with  the  proj 
ect  will  be  the  declination  of  the  city  council  to  grant  us 
a  franchise  to  run  our  line  through  the  city  to  tide 
water."  He  handed  his  cigar-case  to  Mayor  Pound- 
stone  and  continued  lightly:  "And  I  am  glad  to  have 
your  assurance  that  the  city  council  will  not  drop  a 
cold  chisel  in  the  cogs  of  the  wheels  of  progress." 

Mr.  Poundstone  had  given  no  such  assurance,  but 
for  some  reason  he  did  not  feel  equal  to  the  task  of 
contradicting  this  pleasant  fellow.  Ogilvy  continued: 
"At  the  proper  time  we  shall  apply  for  the  franchise. 
It  will  then  be  time  enough  to  discuss  it.  In  the 
meantime  the  N.  C.  O.  plans  a  public  dedicatory  cere 
mony  at  the  first  breaking  of  ground,  and  I  would  be 
greatly  honoured,  Mr.  Mayor,  if  you  would  consent 
to  turn  the  first  shovelful  of  earth  and  deliver  the 
address  of  welcome  upon  that  occasion." 

The  Mayor  swelled  like  a  Thanksgiving  turkey. 
"The  honour  will  be  mine,"  he  corrected  his  visitor. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         273 

"Thank  you  so  much,  sir.  Well,  that's  another 
worry  off  my  mind."  With  the  tact  of  a  prime  minister 
Buck  then  proceeded  deliberately  to  shift  the  conver 
sation  to  the  weather  and  asked  a  number  of  questions 
anent  the  annual  rainfall.  Then  he  turned  to  crops, 
finance,  and  national  politics  and  gradually  veered 
around  to  an  artistic  word-picture  of  the  vast  expansion 
of  the  redwood-lumber  industry  when  the  redwood- 
belt  should  be  connected  by  rail  with  the  markets 
of  the  entire  country.  He  spoke  of  the  magic  effect  the 
building  of  such  a  line  would  have  upon  the  growth  of 
Sequoia.  Sequoia,  he  felt  convinced,  was  destined  to 
heconc  a  city  of  at  least  a  hundred  thousand  inhab 
itants;  he  rhapsodized  over  the  progressive  spirit  cf 
)the  community  and  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  studded 
the  waters  of  Humboldt  Bay  with  the  masts  cf 
the  world's  shipping.  Suddenly  he  checked  himself, 
glanced  at  his  watch,  apologized  for  consuming  so 
much  of  His  Honour's  valuable  time,  expressed  himself 
felicitated  at  knowing  the  Mayor,  gracefully  expressed 
his  appreciation  for  the  encouragement  given  his 
enterprise,  and  departed.  When  he  had  gone,  Mayor 
Poundstone  declared  to  his  secretary  that  without 
doubt  Ogilvy  was  the  livest,  keenest  fellow  that  had 
struck  Sequoia  since  the  advent  of  old  John  Cardi 
gan. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  Mayor's  telephone-bell  rang. 
Buck  Ogilvy  was  on  the  line.  "I  beg  your  pardon 
for  bothering  you  with  my  affairs  twice  in  the  same  day, 
Mr.  Mayor,"  he  announced  deprecatingly,  ''but  the 
fact  is,  a  condition  has  just  arisen  which  necessitates  the 
immediate  employment  of  an  attorney.  The  job  is 


274         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

not  a  very  important  one  and  almost  any  lawyer  would 
do,  but  in  view  of  the  fact  that  we  must,  sooner  OP 
later,  employ  an  attorney  to  look  after  our  interests 
locally,  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  as  well  make 
the  selection  of  a  permanent  attorney  now.  I  am  a 
stranger  in  this  city  Mr.  Poundstone.  Would  it  be 
imposing  on  your  consideration  if  I  asked  you  to 
recommend  such  a  person?  " 

"Why,  not  at  all,  not  at  all!  Delighted  to  help 
you,  Mr.  Ogilvy.  Let  me  see,  now.  There  are  several 
attorneys  in  Sequoia,  all  men  of  excellent  ability  and 
unimpeachable  integrity,  whom  I  can  recommend  with 
the  utmost  pleasure.  C adman  &  Banes,  with  offices 
in  the  Knights  of  Pythias  Temple,  would  be  just  the 
people,  although  there  is  Rodney  McKendrick,  in  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce  Building — a  splendid  fellow^ 
Mr.  Ogilvy,  and  most  desirable.  Also  there  is  Mitchell 
Ormsby — I  forget  where  his  office  is,  but  you  can  find 
it  in  the  telephone-book;  and  if  I  may  be  pardoned  a 
dash  of  naternal  ego,  there  is  my  son  Henry  Poundstone, 
Junior,  While  Henry  is  a  young  man,  his  career  in  the 
law  thus  far  has  been  most  gratifying,  although  he 
hasn't  had  as  broad  an  experience  as  the  others  I  men 
tioned,  and  perhaps  your  choice  had  better  lie  between 
Cadman  &  Banes  and  Rodney  McKendrick.  You 
can't  go  wrong  on  either  of  those  two." 

"Thank  you  a  thousand  times,"  Mr.  Ogilvy  mur 
mured,  and  hung  up.  "We  thought  so,  Buck,  we 
thought  so,"  he  soliloquized.  "Yes,  Cadman  &  Banes 
or  Rodney  McKendrick  may  do,  but  Lord  have  mercy 
on  the  corporate  soul  of  the  N.  C.  O.  if  I  fail  to  retain 
Henry  Poundstone,  Junior.  What  a  wise  plan  it  is  to 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         275 

look  up  the  relatives  of  a  public  official!     Well!     For 
ward,  men,  follow  me — to  Henry's  office." 

Henry  Pound  stone,  Junior,  proved  to  be  the  sole 
inhabitant  of  one  rather  bare  office  in  the  Cardigan 
Block.  Buck  had  fully  resolved  to  give  him  a  retainer 
of  a  thousand  dollars,  or  even  more,  if  he  asked  for  it, 
but  after  one  look  at  Henry  he  cut  the  appropriation  to 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Young  Mr.  Poundstone 
was  blonde  and  frail,  with  large  round  spectacles,  rab 
bit  teeth,  and  the  swiftly  receding  chin  of  the  terrapin. 
Moreover,  he  was  in  such  a  flutter  of  anticipation  over 
the  arrival  of  his  client  that  Buck  deduced  two  things — 
to  wit,  that  the  Mayor  had  telephoned  Henry  he  was 
apt  to  have  a  client,  and  that  as  a  result  of  this  miracle, 
Henry  was  in  no  fit  state  to  discuss  the  sordid  subject 
of  fees  and  retainers.  Ergo,  Mr.  Ogilvy  decided  to 
obviate  such  discussion  now  or  in  the  future.  He 
handed  Henry  a  check  for  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  which  he  wrote  out  on  the  spot,  and  with  his 
bright  winning  smile  remarked:  "Now,  Mr.  Pound- 
stone,  we  will  proceed  to  business.  That  retainer  isn't 
a  large  one,  I  admit,  but  neither  is  the  job  I  have  for 
you  to-day.  Later,  if  need  of  your  services  on  a  larger 
scale  should  develop,  we  shall  of  course  expect  to 
make  a  new  arrangement  whereby  you  will  receive  the 
customary  retainer  of  all  of  our  corporation  attorneys 
I  trust  that  is  quite  satisfactory." 

*  Eminently  so,"  gasped  the  young  disciple  of  Black- 
stone. 

"Very  well,  then;  let  us  proceed  to  business."  Buck 
removed  from  a  small  leather  bag  a  bale  of  legal-look 
ing  documents.  "I  have  here,"  he  announced,  "agree- 


276         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

merits  from  landowners  along  the  proposed  right  of 
way  of  the  N.  C.  O.  to  give  to  that  company,  on 
demand,  within  one  year  from  date,  satisfactory  deed? 
covering  rights  of  way  which  are  minutely  described 
in  the  said  agreements.  I  wish  these  deeds  prepared 
for  signing  and  recording  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment." 

"Yon  shall  have  them  at  this  time  to-morrow," 
Henry  promised. 

The  head  of  Henry  Poundstone,  Junior,  was  held 
high  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  flung  forth  his 
modest  shingle  to  the  breezes  of  Sequoia  six  months 
before,  and  there  was  an  unaccustomed  gleam  of 
importance  in  his  pale  eyes  as  he  rushed  into  his 
father's  office  in  the  city  hall. 

"By  jinks,  Dad!"  he  exulted.  "I've  hooked  a 
fish  at  last — and  he's  a  whopper." 

"Omit  the  cheers,  my  boy.  Remember  I  sent  that 
fish  to  you/'  his  father  answered  with  a  bland  and 
indulgent  smile.  "What  are  you  doing  for  Ogilvy, 
and  how  large  a  retainer  did  he  give  you? " 

"I'm  making  out  deeds  to  his  rights  of  way.  Ordi 
narily  it's  about  a  fifty-dollar  job,  but  without  waiting 
to  discuss  finances  he  handed  me  out  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars.  Why,  Dad,  that's  more  than  you 
make  in  a  month  from  your  job  as  Mayor." 

"Well,  that  isn't  a  bad  retainer.  It's  an  opening 
wedge.  However,  it  would  be  mere  chicken-feed  in 
San  Francisco." 

"Read  this,"  Henry  urged,  and  thrust  a  yellow 
telegraph-form  under  the  Mayor's  nose.  The  latter 
adjusted  his  glasses  and  read: 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         277 

Imperative  building  operations  commence  immediately. 
Local  skepticism  injurious  and  delays  dangerous.  We  must 
show  good  faith  to  our  New  York  friends.  J.  P.  M.  insists 
upon  knowing  promptly  where  we  stand  with  Sequoia  city 
council.  See  them  immediately  and  secure  temporary  franchise, 
if  possible,  to  enable  us  to  cross  Water  Street  at  B  Street  and 
build  out  Front  Street.  Your  arrangement  with  Cardigan  for 
use  of  his  mill-dock  and  spur  for  unloading  material  from 
steamer  ratified  by  board  but  regarded  as  hold-up.  If  your 
judgment  indicates  no  hold-up  on  permanent  franchise,  com 
mence  .active  operations  immediately  upon  acquisition  of 
permanei|t  franchise.  Engage  local  labour  as  far  as  possible. 
Cannot  Impress  upon  you  too  fully  necessity  for  getting  busy, 
as  road  must  be  completed  in  three  years  if  our  plans  are  to 
>ear  fruit  and  time  is  all  too  short.  Impress  this  upon  city 
council  and  wire  answer  to-morrow. 

HOCKLEY. 

This  telegram,  as  tlie  Mayor  observed,  was  dated 
that  day  and  addressed  to  Mr.  Buchanan  Ogilvy,  Hotel 
Sequoia,  Sequoia,  Calif.  Also,  with  a  keen  eye  to 
minor  details,  he  noted  that  it  had  been  filed  at  San 
Francisco  subsequent  to  Ogilvy 's  visit  to  him  that 
afternoon. 

"Ah-h-h!"  breathed  His  Honour.  "That  accounts 
for  his  failure  to  bring  the  matter  up  at  our  interview. 
Upon  his  return  to  the  hotel  he  found  this  telegram — - 
and  got  busy  at  once.  By  Jupiter,  this  looks  like  busi 
ness.  Henry,  how  did  you  come  into  possession  of 
this  telegram?" 

"It  must  have  been  mixed  up  in  the  documents 
Ogilvy  left  with  me.  I  found  it  on  my  desk  when  I 
was  sorting  out  the  papers,  and  in  my  capacity  of 


278         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GLINTS 

attorney  for  the  N.  C.  O.  I  had  no  hesitancy  in  reading 
it." 

"Well,  I  do  declare!  Wonder  who  Hockley  is. 
Never  heard  of  that  fellow  in  connection  with  the 
N.C.O." 

"Hockley  doesn't  matter,"  young  Henry  declared 
triumphantly,  "although  I'd  bet  a  hat  he's  one  of 
those  heavy-weight  Wall  Street  fellows  and  one  of 
J.  P.  M's  vice-presidents,  probably.  J.  P.  M.,  of 
course,  is  the  man  behind." 

"  Who  the  devil  is  J.  P.  M.  ?  " 

Henry  smiled  tolerantly  upon  his  ignorant  and 
guileless  parent.  "Well,  how  would  J.  Pierpont  Mor 
gan  do  for  a  guess?  "  he  queried. 

"Hell's  bells  and  panther-tracks!"  Mayor  Pound- 
stone  started  as  if  snake-bitten.  "I  should  say  you 
have  hooked  a  big  fish.  Boy,  you've  landed  a  whale!" 
And  the  Mayor  whistled  softly  in  his  amazement  and 
delight.  "By  golly,  to  think  of  you  getting  in  with 
that  bunch!  Tre-inendyous !  Per-fect-ly  tree-mend- 
yous!  Did  Ogilvy  say  anything  about  future  busi 
ness?" 

"He  did.  Said  if  I  proved  satisfactory^  he  would 
probably  take  me  on  and  pay  the  customary  retainer 
given  all  of  their  corporation  attorneys." 

"Well,  by  golly,  he'd  better  take  you  on!  I  had  a 
notion  that  chap  Ogilvy  was  smart  enough  to  know 
which  side  his  bread  is  buttered  on  and  who  does  the 
buttering." 

"If  I  could  guarantee  Mr.  Ogilvy  that  temporary 
franchise  mentioned  in  his  telegram,  it  might  help  me 
to  get  in  right  with  J.  P.  M.  at  the  start,"  his  hopeful 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         279 

suggested.  "I  guess  it  would  be  kind  of  poor  to  be 
taken  on  as  one  of  the  regular  staff  of  attorneys  for 
a  Morgan  corporation,  eh?  Say,  they  pay  those  chaps 
as  high  as  fifty  thousand  dollars  a  year  retainer!" 

"  Guarantee  it ! "  his  father  shouted.  "  Guarantee  it ! 
Well,  I  should  snicker!  We'll  just  show  J.  P.  M.  and 
his  crowd  that  they  made  no  mistake  when  they  picked 
you  as  their  Sequoia  legal  representative.  I'll  call  a 
special  meeting  of  that  little  old  city  council  of  mine 
and  jam  that  temporary  franchise  through  while  you'd 
be  saying  'Jack  Robinson!' ': 

"I'll  tell  you  what  let's  do,"  Henry  suggested.  "I'll 
draw  up  the  temporary  franchise  to-night,  and  we'll  put 
it  through  to-morrow  at,  say,  ten  o'clock  without  say 
ing  a  word  to  Mr.  Ogilvy  about  it.  Then  when  the  city 
clerk  has  signed  and  attested  it  and  put  the  seal  of  the 
city  on  it,  I'll  just  casually  take  it  over  to  Mr.  Ogilvy. 
Of  course  he'll  be  surprised  and  ask  me  how  I  came  to 
get  it,  and " 

"And  you  look  surprised,"  his  father  cautioned 
" — sort  of  as  if  you  failed  to  comprehend  what  he's 
driving  at.  Make  him  repeat.  Then  you  say:  'Oh, 
that!  Why,  that's  nothing,  Mr.  Ogilvy.  I  found  the 
telegram  in  those  papers  you  left  with  me,  read  it,  and 
concluded  you'd  left  it  there  to  give  me  the  dope  so 
I  could  go  ahead  and  get  the  franchise  for  you.  Up 
here,  whenever  anybody  wants  a  franchise  from  the 
city,  they  always  hire  an  attorney  to  get  it  for  them,  so 
I  didn't  think  anything  about  this  but  just  naturally 
went  and  got  it  for  you.  If  it  ain't  right,  why,  say 
so  and  I'll  have  it  made  right."1  Old  Poundstone 
nudged  his  son  in  the  short  ribs  and  winked  drolly. 


280         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Let  him  get  the  idea  you're  a  fly  bird  and  on  to  your 
job." 

"Leave  it  to  yours  truly,"  said  Henry. 

His  father  carefully  made  a  copy  of  the  telegram. 

"H'm!"  he  grunted.  "Wants  to  cross  Water 
Street  at  B  and  build  out  Front  Street.  Well,  I  dare 
say  nobody  will  kick  over  the  traces  at  that.  Nothing 
but  warehouses  and  lumber-drying  yards  along  there, 
anyhow.  Still,  come  to  think  of  it,  Pennington  will 
probably  raise  a  howl  about  sparks  from  the  engines  of 
the  N.  C.  O.  setting  his  lumber  piles  afire.  And  he 
won't  relish  the  idea  of  that  crossing,  because  that 
means  a  watchman  and  safety-gates,  and  he'll  have  to 
stand  half  the  cost  of  that." 

"He'll  be  dead  against  it,"  Henry  declared.  "I 
know,  because  at  the  Wednesday  meeting  of  the 
Lumber  Manufacturers'  Association  the  subject, 
of  the  N.  C.  O.  came  up,  and  Pennington  made  a, 
talk  against  it.  He  said  the  N.  C.  O.  ought  to  be  dis 
couraged,  if  it  was  a  legitimate  enterprise,  which  he 
doubted,  because  the  most  feasible  and  natural  route 
for  a  road  would  be  from  Willits.  Mendocino  County, 
north  to  Sequoia.  He  said  the  N.  C.  O.  didn't  tap  the 
main  body  of  the  redwood-belt  and  that  his  own  road 
could  be  extended  to  act  as  a  feeder  to  a  line  that 
would  build  in  from  the  south.  I  tell  you  he's  dead 
set  against  it." 

"Then  we  won't  tell  him  anything  about  it,  Henry. 
We'll  just  pull  off  this  special  session  of  the  council  and 
forget  to  invite  the  reporters;  after  the  job  has  been  put 
over,  Pennington  can  come  around  and  howl  all  he 
wants.  We're  not  letting  a  chance  like  this  slip  by  ?i8 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         281 

; 

without  grabbing  a  handful  of  the  tail-feathers,  Henry. 
No,  sir— not  if  we  know  it." 

"You  bet! "  said  Henry  earnestly. 

And  it  was  even  so.  The  entire  council  was  pres 
ent  with  the  exception  of  Thatcher,  who  was  home, 
ill.  His  running  mate  Yates  was  heartily  in  favour 
of  doing  all  and  sundry  of  those  things  which  would 
aid  and  encourage  the  building  of  the  much-to-be- 
desired  railroad  and  offered  no  objection  to  the  mo 
tion  to  grant  a  sixty-day  temporary  franchise.  How 
ever,  he  always  played  ball  with  the  absent  Thatcher 
and  he  was  fairly  well  acquainted  with  his  other  col 
leagues  on  the  council;  where  they  were  concerned  he 
was  as  suspicious  as  a  rattlesnake  in  August — in  con 
sequence  of  which  he  considered  it  policy  to  play  safe 
pending  Thatcher's  recovery.  Rising  in  his  place,  he 
pointed  out  to  the  board  the  fact  that  many  prominent 
citizens  who  yearned  for  such  a  road  as  the  N.  C.  O. 
had  warned  him  of  the  danger  of  lending  official  aid 
and  comfort  to  a  passel  of  professional  promoters  and 
fly-by-nights;  that  after  all,  the  N.  C.  O.  might  merely 
be  the  stalking-horse  to  a  real-estate  boom  planned 
to  unload  the  undesirable  timber  holdings  of  the  Trini 
dad  Redwood  Lumber  Company,  in  which  event  it 
might  be  well  for  the  council  to  proceed  with  caution. 
It  was  Mr.  Yates'  opinion  that  for  the  present  a  tem 
porary  franchise  for  thirty  days  only  should  be  given; 
if  during  that  thirty  days  the  N.  C.  O.  exhibited  in 
dubitable  signs  of  activity,  he  would  gladly  vote  for  a 
thirty-day  extension  to  enable  the  matter  of  a  per 
manent  franchise  to  be  taken  up  in  regular  order. 

This  amendment  to  the  original  motion  n?et  with 


28S         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

the  unqualified  approval  of  the  Mayor,  as  he  was  care 
ful  to  announce  for  the  benefit  of  the  other  members  of 
the  Solid  Four.  The  fact  of  the  matter  was,  however, 
that  he  was  afraid  to  oppose  Yates  in  such  a  simple 
matter  through  fear  that  Yates  might  grow  cantanker 
ous  and  carry  his  troubles  to  the  Sequoia  Sentinel — a 
base  trick  he  had  been  known  to  do  in  the  past.  After 
explaining  the  advisability  of  keeping  secret  for  the 
present  the  fact  that  a  thirty-day  franchise  had  been 
granted,  His  Honour,  with  the  consent  of  the  maker  of  the 
original  motion  and  the  second  thereof,  submitted  the 
amended  motion  to  a  vote,  which  was  carried 
unanimously. 

At  eleven-thirty  Thursday  morning,  therefore,  young 
Henry  Poundstone,  having  worked  the  greater  part 
of  the  previous  night  preparing  the  deeds,  delivered 
both  deeds  and  franchise  to  Buck  Ogilvy  at  the  latter's 
hotel.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  latter  could 
conceal  his  tremendous  amazement  when  Henry  casu 
ally  handed  him  the  franchise.  True,  he  had  slipped 
that  fake  telegram  among  the  contracts  ass  bait  for 
Henry  and  his  father,  but  m  his  wildest  Sights  of  fancy 
he  had  not  looked  for  them  to  swallow  hook,  line,  and 
sinker.  His  fondest  hope,  at  the  time  he  conceived  the 
brilliant  idea,  was  that  Henry  would  show  the  telegram 
to  his  father  and  thus  inculcate  in  the  old  gentleman  a 
friendly  feeling  toward  the  N.  C.  O.  not  unmixed 
with  pleasurable  anticipations  of  the  day  when  Henry 
Poundstone,  Junior,  should  be  one  of  the  most  highly 
prized  members  of  the  legal  staff  of  a  public-service 
corporation. 

When  he  could  control  his  emotions,  Mr.  Ogilvy 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         283 

gazed  approvingly  upon  Henry  Poundstone.  "Mr. 
Po'indstone,"  he  said  solemnly,  "I  have  met  some 
meteoric  young  attorneys  in  my  day,  but  you're  the 
first  genuine  comet  I  have  seen  m  the  legal  firmament. 
Do  you  mind  telling  me  exactly  how  you  procured  this 
franchise — and  why  you  procured  it  without  explicit 
orders  from  me?" 

Henry  did  his  best  to  look  puzzled.  "Why,"  he  said, 
"you  left  that  telegram  with  me,  and  I  concluded  that 
you  regarded  it  as  self-explanatory  or  else  had  forgotten 
to  mention  it.  I  knew  you  were  busy,  and  I  didn't 
want  to  bother  you  with  details,  so  I  just  went  ahead 
and  filled  th»e  order  for  you.  Anything  wrong  about 
that?" 

"  Certainly  not.  It's  perfectly  wonderful.  But  how 
did  you  put  it  over?" 

Henry  smirked.  "My  dad's  the  engineer,"  he  said 
bluntly.  "If  thirty  days  ain't  enough  time,  see  me 
and  I'll  get  you  thirty  days  more.  And  in  the  mean 
time  nobody  knows  a  thing  about  this  little  deal. 
What's  more,  they  won't  know.  I  figured  Colonel 
Pennington  might  try  to  block  you  at  that  crossing 
sol " 

Buck  Ogilvy  extended  his  hand  in  benediction  and 
let  it  drop  lightly  on  Henry  Poundstone's  thin  shoulder. 
Henry  quivered  with  anticipation  under  that  gentle 
accolade  and  swallowed  his  heart  while  the  great  Ogilvy 
made  a  portentous  annoTmcement. 

"My  dear  Poundstone,"  he  said  earnestly,  "I  am 
/iot  a  man  to  forget  clever  work.  At  the  proper  time  I 
shall He  smiled  his  radiant  smile.  "You  un 
derstand,  of  course,  that  I  am  speaking  for  myself 


584         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

and  can  make  you  no  firm  promises.     However * 

He  ^smiled  again.     "All  I  have  to  say  is  that  you'll 
do!" 

"Thank    you,"    said    Henry    Poundstone,    Junior, 
"Thank  you  ever  so  much." 


CHAPTER  XXVH 

AN  EXPERIENCE  extending  over  a  very 
active  business  career  of  thirty  years  had  con 
vinced  Colonel  Seth  Pennington  of  the  futility 
of  wracking  his  brains  in  vain  speculation  over  mys 
teries.  In  his  day  he  had  been  interested  in  some 
small  public-service  corporations,  which  is  tantamount 
to  saying  that  he  knew  peanut  politics  and  had  learned 
that  the  very  best  way  to  fight  the  devil  is  with  fire. 
Frequently  he  had  found  it  of  great  interest  and  profit 
to  him  to  know  exactly  how  certain  men  spent  their 
tune  and  his  money,  and  since  he  was  a  very  busy  man 
himself,  naturally  he  had  to  delegate  somebody  else 
to  procure  this  information  for  him.  When,  there 
fore,  the  Northern  California  Oregon  Railroad  com 
menced  to  encroach  on  the  Colonel's  time-appropria 
tion  for  sleep,  he  realized  that  there  was  but  one  way  in 
which  to  conserve  his  rest  and  that  was  by  engaging 
to  fathom  the  mystery  for  him  a  specialist  in  the  un 
ravelling  of  mysteries.  In  times  gone  by,  the  Colonel 
had  found  a  certain  national  detective-agency  an  ex 
tremely  efficient  aid  to  well-known  commercial  agen 
cies,  and  to  these  tried  and  true  subordinates  he  turned 
now  for  explicit  and  satisfying  information  anent  the 
Northern  California  Outrage! 

The  information  forthcoming  from  Dun's  and  Brad- 
street's  was  vague  and  unsatisfying.     Neither  of  these 

285 


286         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

two  commercial  agencies  could  ascertain  anything  of 
interest  regarding  the  finances  of  the  N.  C.  O.  For 
the  present  the  corporation  had  no  office,  its  destinies 
in  San  Francisco  being  guarded  by  a  well-known  attor 
ney  who  had  declined  to  make  any  statement  regard 
ing  the  company  but  promised  one  at  an  early  date. 
The  board  of  directors  consisted  of  this  attorney,  his 
two  assistants,  his  stenographer,  and  Mr.  Buchanan 
Ogilvy.  The  company  had  been  incorporated  for  five 
million  dollars,  divided  into  five  million  shares  of  par 
value  of  one  dollar  each,  and  five  shares  had  been  sub 
scribed  !  Both  agencies  forwarded  copies  of  the  articles 
of  incorporation,  but  since  the  Colonel  had  already 
read  this  document  in  the  Sequoia  Sentinel,  he  was  not 
further  interested.  x 

"It  looks  fishy  to  me,"  the  Colonel  commented  to  his 
manager,  "and  I'm  more  than  ever  convinced  it's  a 
scheme  of  that  Trinidad  Redwood  Timber  Company  to 
start  a  timber-boom  and  unload.  And  that  is  some 
thing  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company  does  not 
view  with  favour,  for  the  reason  that  one  of  these 
bright  days  those  Trinidad  people  will  come  to  their 
senses  and  sell  cheap  to  us.  A  slight  extension  of  our 
logging-road  will  make  that  Trinidad  timber  accessi 
ble;  hence  we  are  the  only  logical  customers  and  should 
control  the  situati©n.  However,  to  be  sure  is  to  be  satis 
fied.  Telephone  the  San  Francisco  office  to  have  the 
detective-agency  that  handled  the  longshoremen's 
strike  job  for  us  send  a  couple  of  their  best  operatives 
up  on  the  next  steamer,  with  instructions  to  report 
to  me  on  arrival." 

When  the  operatives  reported,  the  Colonel's  orders 


TH±,  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         287 

were  brief  and  explicit,  "I  want  to  know  all  about  a 
man  named  Buchanan  Ogilvy,  who  is  up  north  some 
where  procuring  rights  of  way  for  the  Northern  Cali 
fornia  Oregon  Railroad.  Find  him.  Get  up  with  him 
in  the  morning  and  put  him  to  bed  at  night.  Report 
to  me  daily." 

Buck  was  readily  located  in  the  country  north  of 
Arcata,  and  one  of  the  operatives  actually  procured  a 
job  as  chainman  with  his  surveying  gang,  while  the 
other  kept  Ogilvy  and  his  secretary  under  surveillance. 
Their  reports,  however,  yielded  the  Colonel  nothing 
until  the  first  day  of  Buck's  return  to  Sequoia,  when  the 
following  written  report  caused  the  Colonel  to  sit  up  and 
take  notice.  It  was  headed:  "Report  of  Operative  No. 
41,"  and  it  read: 

Ogilvy  in  his  room  until  12  o'clock  noon.  At  12:05  entered 
dining  room,  leaving  at  1  P.  M.  and  proceeding  direct  to  office 
of  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company.  Operative  took  post 
behind  a  lumber-pile  at  side  of  office  so  as  to  command  view  of 
interior  of  office.  From  manner  of  greeting  accorded  Ogilvy  by 
Bryce  Cardigan,  operative  is  of  opinion  they  had  not  met  before. 
Ogilvy  remained  in  Cardigan's  private  office  half  an  hour,  spent 
another  half-hour  conversing  with  young  lady  hi  general  office. 
Young  lady  a  brunette.  O.  then  returned  to  Hotel  Sequoia,  where 
he  wrote  several  letters  in  writing-room.  At  3  p.  M.  ealled  to  tele 
phone.  At  3 :02  P.  M.  left  hurriedly  for  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber 
Company's  office.  Entered  private  office  without  waiting  to  be 
announced.  Emerged  at  3 :12,  walking  slowly  and  in  deep  thought. 
At  B  and  Cedar  streets  stopped  suddenly,  snapped  his  fingers  and 
started  walking  rapidly,  in  the  manner  of  one  who  has  arrived  at  a 
decision.  At  3:24  entered  the  telephone  building  and  placed  a 
long-distance  call.  Operative  standing  at  counter  close  by  heard 
him  place  call  with  the  girl  on  duty.  He  asked  for  the  Cardigan 
Redwood  Lumber  Company  in  San  Francisco. 


288         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

Concluded  his  conversation  at  3:32  and  proceeded  to  the  citrj 
hall,  entering  the  Mayor's  office  at  3 :43  and  emerging  at  4 :10.  He 
then  returned  to  the  Hotel  Sequoia  and  sat  in  the  lobby  until  handed 
a  telegram  at  4:40;  whereupon  he  entered  the  telephone-booth 
and  talked  to  someone,  emerging  at  4:43  to  go  to  his  room.  He 
returned  at  4:46  and  hurried  to  the  law-office  of  Henry  Poundstone, 
Junior,  in  the  Cardigan  Block.  He  was  with  Poundstone  until 
4:59,  when  he  returned  leisurely  to  the  Hotel  Sequoia,  carrying  a 
small  leather  grip.  He  also  had  this  grip  when  he  entered  Pound- 
stone's  office. 

Arrived  at  the  hotel  at  5 :03  and  went  to  his  room.  At  6 :45  he 
entered  a  public  automobile  in  front  of  the  hotel  and  was  driven 
to  No.  846  Elm  Street.  The  brunette  young  lady  who  works  b 
the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company's  office  emerged  pres^ 
«ntly  and  entered  the  car,  which  then  proceeded  to  No.  38  Redwoo^ 
Boulevard,  where  the  brunette  young  lady  alighted  and  entered 
the  house.  She  returned  at  7  sharp,  accompanied  by  a  young  lady 
tfhom  she  introduced  to  O.  All  three  were  then  driven  to  the  Can 
non  restaurant  at  432  Third  Street  and  escorted  to  a  reserved  table 
!n  one  of  the  screened-off  semi-private  rooms  along  the  right  side  of 
the  dining  room.  At  7:15  Bryce  Cardigan  entered  the  restaurant 
\nd  was  escorted  by  the  waiter  to  the  table  occupied  by  O.  and 
Varty. 

At  9:30  entire  party  left  restaurant  and  entered  a  Napier  car 
Iriven  by  a  half-breed  Indian  whom  the  second  young  lady  hailed 
is  George.  O.  and  the  brunette  young  lady  were  dropped  at  846 
^lm  Street  while  Cardigan  and  the  other  young  lady  proceeded 
directly  to  No.  38  Redwood  Boulevard.  After  aiding  the  lady  to 
alight,  Cardigan  talked  with  her  a  few  minutes  at  the  gate,  then 
bade  her  good-night  and  after  waiting  until  she  had  disappeared 
inside  the  front  door,  returned  to  the  automobile  and  was  driven 
to  his  home,  while  the  chauffeur  George  ran  the  car  into  the  Cardi 
gan  garage. 

Upon  returning  to  Hotel  Sequoia,  found  O.  in  hotel  bar.  Saw 
him  to  bed  at  10  sharp. 

Needless  to  relate,  this  report  had  a  most  amazing 
effect  upon  Colonel  Pennington,  and  when  at  length 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         289 

he  could  recover  his  mental  equilibrium,  he  set  about 
quite  calmly  to  analyze  the  report,  word  by  word  and 
sentence  by  sentence,  with  the  result  that  he  promptly 
arrived  at  the  following  conclusion: 

(1)  His  niece  Shirley  Sumner  was  not  to  be  trusted 
in  so  far  as  young  Bryce  Cardigan  was  concerned. 
Despite  her  assumption  of  hostility  toward  the  fellow 
since  that  memorable  day  in  Pennington's  woods,  the 
Colonel  was  now  fully  convinced  that  she  had  made  her 
peace  with  him  and  had  been  the  recipient  of  his  secret 
attentions  right  along.     The  Colonel  was  on  the  verge 
of  calling  his  niece  up  to  demand  an  explanation,  but  on 
second  thought  decided  to  wait  a  few  days  and  see  what 
his  gum-shoe  men  might  have  to  report  further. 

(2)  The  N.  C.  O.  was  still  a  mystery,  but  a  mystery 
in  which  Bryce  Cardigan  was  interested.     Moreover, 
he  was  anxious  to  aid  the  N.  C.  O.  in  every  way  pos 
sible.     However,  the  Colonel  could  understand  this. 
Cardigan  would  aid  anything  that  might  possibly  tend 
to  lift  the  Cardigan  lumber  interests  out  from  under  the 
iron  heel  of  Colonel  Pennington  and  he  was  just  young 
enough  and  unsophisticated  enough  to  be  fooled  by  that 
Trinidad  Redwood  Timber  gang. 

(3)  The  N.  C.  O.  was  going  to  make  a  mighty  bluff, 
even  to  the  extent  of  applying  for  a  franchise  to  run 
over  the  city  streets  of  Sequoia.     Hence  Ogilvy's  visit 
to  Mayor  Poundstone — doubtless   on  the  advice  of 
Bryce  Cardigan.     Hence,  also,  his  visit  to  young  Henry 
Poundstone,  whom  he  had  doubtless  engaged  as  his 
legal  representative  in  order  to  ingratiate  himself  with 
the  yoiung  man's  father.     Coarse  work! 

(4)  Ogilvy  had  carried  a  small  leather  bag  to  and 


290         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

from  Henry  Poundstone's  office.  That  bag  was  read* 
ily  explained.  It  had  contained  a  bribe  in  gold  coin 
and  young  Henry  had  been  selected  as  the  go-between. 
That  meant  that  Mayor  Poundstone  had  agreed  to  de 
liver  the  franchise — for  a  consideration;  and  like  the 
smooth  scoundrel  he  was,  he  wanted  his  bit  in  gold  coin, 
which  could  not  be  marked  without  the  marks  being 
discovered!  Ogilvy  had  called  first  on  the  Mayor  to 
arrange  the  details;  then  he  had  called  on  the  Mayor's 
son  to  complete  the  transaction. 

(5)  If  a  franchise  had  been  arranged  for  and  the 
bribe  already  delivered,  that  meant  the  prompt  and 
unadvertised  commencement  of  operations.  Where 
(the  Colonel  asked  himself)  would  these  operations 
begin?  Why,  close  to  the  waterfront,  where  materials 
could  be  landed  from  the  steamer  that  brought  them  to 
Sequoia.  At  whose  mill-dock  would  those  materials  be 
discharged?  WTiy,  Cardigan's  dock,  of  course.  Ogilvy 
had  probably  called  first  on  Cardigan  to  arrange  that 
detail.  Yes,  the  N.  C.  O.  was  going  to  carry  its  monu 
mental  bluff  to  the  point  of  building  a  mile  of  track 
through  town.  .  .  .  No — no,  tfyey  wouldn't  spend 
that  much  money  on  a  bluff;  they  wouldn't  bribe 
Poundstone  unless  the  road  was  meant.  And  was  it  a 
common  carrier,  after  all?  Had  Cardigan  in  some  mys^ 
terious  manner  managed  to  borrow  enough  money  to 
parallel  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company's  logging- 
road,  and  was  he  disguising  it  as  a  common  carrier? 

The  trail  was  growing  hot;  the  Colonel  mopped  his 
brow  and  concentrated  further.  If  the  N.  C.  O. 
was  really  going  to  start  operations,  in  order  to  move  its 
material  rrom  the  Cardigan  dock  to  the  scene  of  ope*cv 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

tions  it  would  have  to  cut  his  (the  Colonel's)  tracks 
somewhere  on  Water  Street.  Damnation!  That  was 
it.  They  were,  try  ing  to  slip  one  over  on  him.  They  were 
planning  to  get  a  jump-crossing  in  before  he  should 
awake  to  the  situation;  they  were  planning,  too,  to  have 
the  city  council  slip  through  the  franchise  when  nobody 
was  looking,  and  once  the  crossing  should  be  in,  they 
could  laugh  at  Colonel  Pennington! 

"The  scoundrels ! "  he  murmured.  "I'm  on  to  them ! 
Cardigan  is  playing  the  game  with  them.  That's  why 
he  bought  those  rails  from  the  old  Laurel  Creek  spur! 
Oh,  the  sly  young  fox — quoting  that  portion  of  our  haul 
ing  contract  which  stipulates  that  all  spurs  and  exten 
sions  of  my  road,  once  it  enters  Cardigan's  lands,  must 
be  made  at  Cardigan's  expense!  And  all  to  fool  me 
into  thinking  he  wanted  those  rails  for  an  extension  of 
his  logging-system.  Oh,  what  a  blithering  idiot  I  have 
been!  However,  it's  not  too  late  yet.  Poundstone  is 
coming  over  to  dinner  Thursday  night,  and  I'll  wring 
the  swine  dry  before  he  leaves  the  house.  And  as  for 
those  rails  Cardigan  managed  to  horns woggle  me 
out  of—" 

He  seized  the  telephone  and  fairly  shouted  to  his  ex 
change  operator  to  get  his  woods-foreman  Jules  Ron 
deau  on  the  line. 

"That  you,  Rondeau?"  he  shouted  when  the  big 
French  Canadian  responded.  "Pennington  talking. 
What  has  young  Cardigan  done  about  those  rails  I 
sold  him  from  the  abandoned  spur  up  Laurel  Creek ?'r 

"He  have  two  flat-cars  upon  ze  spter  now.  Dose 
woods-gang  of  hees  she  tear  up  dose  rails  from  ze  head 
<?f  ze  spur  and  load  in  ze  flat-cars." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"The  cars  haven't  left  the  Laurel  Creek  spur,  then?" 

"No,  she  don't  leave  yet." 

"See  to  it,  Rondeau,  that  they  do  not  leave  until 
I  give  the  word.  Understand?  Cardigan's  woods-boss 
will  call  you  up  and  ask  you  to  send  a  switch-engine 
up  to  snake  them  out  late  this  afternoon  or  to-morrow 
afternoon.  Tell  him  the  switch-engine  is  in  the  shop  for 
repairs  or  is  busy  at  other  work — anything  that  will 
stall  him  off  and  delay  delivery." 

"Suppose  Bryce  Cardigan,  she  comes  around  and  say 
'Why?'"  Rondeau  queried  cautiously. 

"Kill  him,"  the  Colonel  retorted  coolly.  "It  strikes 
me  you  and  the  Black  Minorca  are  rather  slow  playing 
even  with  young  Card'gan." 

Rondeau  grunted.  "I  theenk  mebbe  so  you  kill 
heem  yourself,  boss,"  he  replied  enigmatically,  and 
hung  up. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

fTT"MlE  dictograph  which  Shirley  had  asked  Bryce 
to  obtain  for  her  in  San  Francisco  arrived  on  the 

JL  regular  passenger-steamer  on  Thursday  morning 
and  Bryce  called  her  up  to  ask  when  she  desired  it  sent 
over. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Cardigan,"  she  greeted  him 
cheerily.  "How  do  you  feel  this  morning?  Any  the 
worse  for  having  permitted  yourself  to  be  a  human 
being  last  night?" 

"Why,  I  feel  pretty  fine,  Shirley.  I  think  it  did  me 
A  lot  of  good  to  crawl  out  of  my  shell  last  night." 

"You  feel  encouraged  to  go  on  living,  eh?" 

"Yes." 

"And  fighting?" 

"By  all  means." 

"Then  something  has  occurred  of  late  to  give  you 
new  courage?" 

"Oh,  many  things.  Didn't  I  give  an  exhibition  of 
my  courage  in  accepting  Ogilvy's  invitation  to  dinner, 
knowing  you  were  going  to  be  there?" 

She  did  not  like  that.  "You  carry  your  frank 
ness  to  extremes,  my  friend,"  she  retorted.  "I'm 
sure  I've  always  been  much  nicer  to  you  than  you  de 


serve." 


"Nevertheless  there  wasn't  any  valid  reason  why  1 
should  tantalize  myself  last  night." 

293 


294         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"  Then  why  did  you  come?  "  He  had  a  suspicion  that 
she  was  laughing  silently  at  him. 

"Partly  to  please  Ogilvy,  who  has  fallen  head  over 
heels  in  love  with  Moira;  partly  to  please  Moira,  who 
wanted  me  to  meet  you,  but  mostly  to  please  myself,  be 
cause,  while  I  dreaded  it,  nevertheless  I  wanted  to  see 
you  again.  T  comforted  myself  with  the  thought  that 
for  the  sake  of  appearances  we  dared  not  quarrel  in 
the  presence  of  Moira  and  my  friend  Ogilvy,  and  I  dare 
say  you  felt  the  same  way.  At  any  rate,  I  have  seldom 
had  more  enjoyment  when  partaking  of  a  meal  with  an 
enemy." 

"Please  do  not  say  that,"  she  answered.  "I  am  your 
opponent,  but  not  your  enemy." 

"That's  nice  of  you.  By  the  way,  Shirley,  you  may 
inform  your  uncle  at  breakfast  Friday  morning  about 
Hiy  connection  with  the  N.  C.  O.  In  fact,  I  think  it 
would  be  far  better  for  you  if  you  made  it  a  point  to  do 


so." 


"Why?" 

"Because  both  Ogilvy  and  myself  haVe  a  very  strong 
suspicion  that  your  uncle  has  a  detective  or  two  on  our 
trails.  There  was  a  strange  man  rather  prevalent 
around  him  all  day  yesterday  and  I  noticed  a  fellow 
following  my  car  last  night.  He  was  on  a  bicycle  and 
followed  me  home.  I  communicated  my  suspicions  to 
Ogilvy,  and  this  morning  he  spent  two  hours  trying  to 
shake  the  same  man  off  his  trail — and  couldn't.  So  I 
judge  your  uncle  will  learn  to-day  that  you  dined  with 
Ogilvy,  Moira,  and  me  last  night/' 

"Oh,  dear!  That's  terrible."  He  could  sense  Her 
distress. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         295 

"Ashamed  of  having  been  seen  in  my  company,  eh?" 

"Please  don't.  Are  you  quite  serious  in  this  mat 
ter?" 

"Quite." 

"Uncle  Seth  will  think  it  so — so  strange." 

"He'll  probably  tell  you  about  it.  Better  beat  him 
to  the  issue  by  'fessing  up,  Shirley.  Doubtless  his  sus 
picions  are  already  aroused,  and  if  you  inform  him  that 
you  know  I  am  the  real  builder  of  the  N.  C.  O.,  he'll 
think  you're  a  smart  woman  and  that  you've  been 
doing  a  little  private  gum-shoe  work  of  your  own  on 
behalf  of  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company." 

"Which  is  exactly  what  I  have  been  doing,"  she  re' 
minded  him. 

"I  know.  But  then,  I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  Shirley 
— that  is,  any  more.  And  after  Friday  morning  I'll  not 
be  afraid  of  your  uncle.  Do  tell  him  at  breakfast. 
Then  watch  to  see  if  it  affects  his  appetite." 

"Oh,  dear!     I  feel  as  if  I  were  a  conspirator." 

"I  believe  you  are  one.  Your  dictograph  has  ar 
rived.  Shall  I  send  George  Sea  Otter  over  with  it? 
And  have  you  somebody  to  install  it?" 

"Oh,  bother !     Does  it  have  to  be  installed ? " 

"It  does.  You  place  the  contraption — hide  it, 
rather — in  the  room  where  the  conspirators  conspire; 
then  you  run  wires  from  it  into  another  room  where  the 
detectives  listen  in  on  the  receivers." 

"Could  George  Sea  Otter  install  it?" 

"I  think  he  could.  There  is  a  printed  card  of  in^ 
structions,  and  I  dare  say  George  won  Id  find  the  job  no 
mere  baffling  than  the  ignition-system  on  the  Napier." 

"Will  he  tell  anybody?" 


«96         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Not  if  you  ask  him  not  to."    • 

"Not  even  you?" 

"Not  even  a  whisper  to  himself,  Shirley." 

"Very  well,  then.  Please  send  him  over.  Thank 
you  so  much,  Bryce  Cardigan.  You're  an  awful 
good  old  sort,  after  all.  Really,  it  hurts  me  to  have  to 
oppose  you.  It  would  be  so  much  nicer  if  we  didn't 
have  all  those  redwood  trees  to  protect,  wouldn't 
it?" 

"Let  us  not  argue  the  question,  Shirley.  I  think  I 
have  my  redwood  trees  protected.  Good-bye." 

He  had  scarcely  finished  telephoning  his  home  to  in 
struct  George  Sea  Otter  to  report  with  the  express 
package  to  Shirley  when  Buck  Ogilvy  strolled  into  the 
office  and  tossed  a  document  on  his  desk.  "There's 
your  little  old  temporary  franchise,  old  thing,"  he  an 
nounced;  and  with  many  a  hearty  laugh  he  related  to 
Bryce  the  ingenious  means  by  which  he  had  obtained 
it.  "And  now  if  you  will  phone  up  to  your  logging- 
camp  and  instruct  the  woods-boss  to  lay  off  about  fifty 
men  to  rest  for  the  day,  pending  a  hard  night's  work, 
and  arrange  to  send  them  down  on  the  last  log-train 
to-day,  I'll  drop  around  after  dinner  and  we'll  fly  to 
that  jump-crossing.  Here's  a  list  of  the  tools  we'll 
need." 

"I'll  telephone  Colonel  Pennington's  manager  and 
ask  him  to  kick  a  switch-engine  in  on  the  Laurel  Creek 
spur  and  snake  those  flat-cars  with  my  rails  aboard 
out  to  the  junction  with  the  main  line,"  Bryce  replied. 
And  he  called  up  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Com 
pany — only  to  be  informed  by  no  less  a  person  than 
Colonel  Pennington  himself  that  it  would  be  impossible 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         297 

to  send  the  switch-engine  in  until  the  following  after- 
noon.  The  Colonel  was  sorry,  but  the  switch-engine 
was  hi  the  shop  having  the  brick  in  her  fire-box  re 
newed,  while  the  mogul  that  hauled  the  log  trains 
would  not  have  time  to  attend  to  the  matter,  since  the 
flats  would  have  to  be  spotted  on  the  sidetrack  at  Car 
digan's  log-landing  in  the  woods,  and  this  could  not  be 
done  until  the  last  loaded  log-train  for  the  day  had 
been  hauled  out  to  make  room. 

"  Why  not  switch  back  with  the  mogul  after  the  log- 
train  has  been  hauled  out  on  the  main  line?"  Bryce 
demanded  pointedly. 

Pennington,  however,  was  not  trapped.  "My  dear 
fellow,"  he  replied  patronizingly,  "quite  impossible, 
I  assure  you.  That  old  trestle  across  the  creek,  my 
boy — it  hasn't  been  looked  at  for  years.  While  I'd 
send  the  light  switch-engine  over  it  and  have  no 
fears " 

"I  happen  to  know,  Colonel,  that  the  big  mogul 
kicked  those  flats  in  to  load  the  rails!" 

"I  know  it.  And  what  happened?  Why,  that 
old  trestle  squeaked  and  shook  and  gave  every  evi 
dence  of  being  about  to  buckle  in  the  centre.  My  en 
gineer  threatened  to  quit  if  I  sent  him  in  again." 

"Very  well.  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  wait  until  the 
switch-engine  comes  out  of  the  shop,"  Bryce  replied 
resignedly,  and  hung  up.  He  turned  a  troubled  face 
toOgilvy.  "Checkmated!"  he  announced.  "Whipped 
to  a  frazzle.  The  Colonel  is  lying,  Buck,  and  I've 
caught  him  at  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  mogul  didn't 
kick  those  flats  in  at  all.  The  switch-engine  did — and 
I  know  it.  Now  I'm  going  to  send  a  man  over  to  snooj? 


398         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

around  Pennington's  roundhouse  and  verify  his  report 
about  the  switch-engine  being  in  the  shop." 

He  did  so.  Half  an  hour  later  the  messenger  returned 
with  the  information  that  not  only  was  the  switch- 
engine  not  in  the  shop  but  her  fire-box  had  been  over 
hauled  the  week  before  and  was  reported  to  be  in  excel 
lent  condition. 

"That  settles  it,"  Buck  Ogilvy  mourned.  "He  had 
gum-shoe  men  on  my  trail,  after  all;  they  have  reported, 
and  the  Colonel  is  as  suspicious  as  a  rhino.  He  doesn't 
know  anything,  but  he  smells  danger  just  the  same." 

"Exactly,  Buck.  So  he  is  delaying  the  game  until 
he  can  learn  something  definite."  He  drummed  idly 
on  his  desk  for  several  minutes.  Then: 

"Buck,  can  you  run  a  locomotive?" 

"With  one  hand,  old  man." 

"Fine  business!  Well,  I  guess  we'll  put  in  that 
crossing  to-morrow  night.  The  switch-engine  will  be 
in  the  roundhouse  at  Pennington's  mill  to-morrow  night 
so  we  can't  steal  that;  but  we  can  steal  the  mogul. 
I'll  just  send  word  up  to  my  woods-boss  not  to  have  his 
train  loaded  when  the  mogul  comes  up  late  to-morrow 
afternoon  to  haul  it  down  to  our  log-landing.  He  will 
explain  to  the  engineer  and  fireman  that  our  big  bull 
donkey  went  out  and  we  couldn't  get  our  logs  down  to 
the  landing  in  time  to  get  them  loaded  that  day.  Of 
course,  the  engine-crew  won't  bother  to  run  down 
to  Sequoia  for  the  night — that  is,  they  won't  run  the 
mogul  down.  They'll  just  leave  her  at  our  log-landing 
all  night  and  put  up  for  the  night  at  our  camp.  How 
ever,  if  they  should  be  forced,  because  of  their  private 
affairs,  to  return  to  Sequoia,  they'll  borrow  my  t^aoL 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

walker's  velocipede.  I  have  one  that  is  driven  with 
a  small  gasolene  engine — I  use  it  in  running  back  and 
forth  to  the  logging-camp  hi  case  I  fail  to  connect  with 
a  log- train." 

"But  how  do  you  know  they  will  put  up  at  your 
camp  all  night,  Bryce?" 

"My  men  will  make  them  comfortable,  and  it  means 
they  can  lie  abed  until  seven  o'clock  instead  of  having 
to  roll  out  at  five  o'clock,  which  would  be  the  case  if 
they  spent  the  night  at  this  end  of  the  line.  If  they  do 
not  stay  at  our  logging-camp,  the  mogul  will  stay  there, 
provided  my  woods-foreman  lends  them  my  velo 
cipede.  The  fireman  would  prefer  that  to  firing  that 
big  mogul  all  the  way  back  to  Sequoia." 

"Yes,"  Buck  agreed,  "I  think  he  would." 

"There  is  a  slight  grade  at  our  log-landing.  I  know 
that,  because  the  air  leaked  out  of  the  brakes  on  a 
log-train  I  was  on  a  short  tune  ago,  and  the  train  ran 
away  with  me.  Now,  the  engine-crew  will  set  the 
airbrakes  on  the  mogul  and  leave  her  with  steam  up  to 
throb  all  night;  they'll  not  blow  her  down,  for  that 
would  mean  work  firing  her  hi  the  morning.  Our 
task,  Buck,  will  be  to  throw  off  the  airbrakes  and  let 
her  glide  silently  out  of  our  log-landing.  About  a 
mile  down  the  road  we'll  stop,  get  up  steam,  run  down 
to  the  junction  with  the  main  line,  back  hi  on  the 
Laurel  Creek  spur,  couple  on  to  those  flat-cars  and 
breeze  merrily  down  to  Sequoia  with  them.  They'll 
be  loaded  waiting  for  us;  our  men  will  be  congregated  in 
our  dry -yard  just  off  Water  Street  near  B,  waiting  for 
us  to  arrive  witb  the  rails — and  bingo — we  go  to  it. 
After  we  drop  the  flats,  we'll  run  the  engine  back  to  the 


800         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

woods,  leave  it  where  we  found  it,  return  a-flying  on 
the  velocipede,  if  it's  there,  or  in  my  automobile,  if  it 
isn't  there.  You  can  get  back  in  ample  time  to  super 
intend  the  cutting  of  the  crossing!" 

" Spoken  like  a  man ! "  quoth  Buck  Ogilvy .  "You're 
the  one  man  in  this  world  for  whom  I'd  steal  a  loco 
motive.  'At-aboy!" 

Had  either  of  the  conspirators  known  of  Pennington's 
plans  to  entertain  Mayor  Poundstone  at  dinner  on 
Thursday  night,  it  is  probable  they  would  not  have 
cheered  until  those  flat-cars  were  out  of  the  woods. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

MAYOR  POUNDSTONE  and  his  wife  arrived 
at  the  Pennington  home  in  Redwood  Boule 
vard  at  six  forty -five  Thursday  evening. 
It  was  with  a  profound  feeling  of  relief  that  His  Honour 
lifted  the  lady  from  their  modest  little  "flivver,"  for 
once  inside  the  Pennington  house,  he  felt,  he  would  be 
free  from  a  peculiarly  devilish  brand  of  persecution 
inaugurated  by  his  wife  about  three  months  previously. 
Mrs.  Poundstone  wanted  a  new  automobile.  And  she 
had  entered  upon  a  campaign  of  nagging  and  complaint, 
hoping  to  wear  Poundstone's  resistance  down  to  the 
point  where  he  would  be  willing  to  barter  his  hope  of 
salvation  in  return  for  a  guarantee  of  peace  on  earth. 

"I  feel  like  a  perfect  fool,  calling  upon  these  people 
in  this  filthy  little  rattletrap,"  Mrs.  Poundstone  pro 
tested  as  they  passed  up  the  cement  walk  toward  the 
Pennington  portal. 

Mayor  Poundstone  paused.  Had  he  been  Medusa, 
the  glance  he  bent  upon  his  spouse  would  have  trans 
formed  her  instantly  into  a  not  particularly  symmetri 
cal  statue  of  concrete.  He  had  reached  the  breaking- 
point. 

"In  pity's  name,  woman,"  he  growled,  "talk  about 
something  else.  Give  me  one  night  of  peace.  Let  me 
enjoy  my  dinner  and  this  visit." 

*6I  can't  help  it,"  Mrs.  P.  retorted  with  asperity. 

301 


302         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

She  pointed  to  Shirley  Simmer's  car  parked  under  the 
porte-cochere.  "If  I  had  a  sedan  like  that,  I  could  die 
happy.  And  it  only  cost  thirty-two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars." 

"I  paid  six  hundred  and  fifty  for  the  rattletrap,  and 
I  couldn't  afford  that,"  he  almost  whimpered.  "You 
were  happy  with  it  until  I  was  elected  mayor." 

"You  forget  our  social  position,  my  dear,"  she  pur 
red  sweetly. 

He  could  have  struck  her.  "Hang  your  social 
position,"  he  gritted  savagely.  "Shut  up,  will  you? 
Social  position  in  a  sawmill  town!  Rats!" 

"Sh— sh!  Control  yourself,  Henry!"  She  plucked 
gently  at  his  arm;  with  her  other  hand  she  lifted  the 
huge  knocker  on  the  front  door. 

"Dammit,  you'll  drive  me  crazy  yet,"  Poundstone 
gurgled,  and  subsided. 

The  Pennington  butler,  a  very  superior  person, 
opened  the  door  and  swept  them  with  a  faintly  dis 
approving  glance.  It  is  possible  that  he  found  Mayor 
Poundstone,  who  was  adorned  with  a  white  string 
tie,  a  soft  slouch  hat,  a  Prince  Albert  coat,  and  horse 
shoe  cut  vest,  mildly  amusing. 

The  Poundstones  entered.  At  the  entrance  to  the 
living  room  the  butler  announced  sonorously:  "Mayor 
Poundstone  and  Mrs.  Poundstone." 

"Glad  to  see  you  aboard  the  ship,"  Colonel  Penning 
ton  boomed  with  his  best  air  of  hearty  expansiveness. 
"Well,  well,"  he  continued,  leading  Mrs.  Poundstone 
to  a  divan  in  front  of  the  fire,  "this  is  certainly  delightful. 
My  niece  will  be  down  in  two  shakes  of  a  lamb's  tail. 
Have  a  cigarette,  Mr.  Poundstone." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         SOS 

In  the  midst  of  the  commonplace  chatter  incident 
to  such  occasions,  Shirley  entered  the  room;  and  the 
Colonel,  leaving  her  to  entertain  the  guests,  went  to  a 
small  sideboard  in  one  corner  and  brought  forth  the 
"materials,"  as  he  jocularly  termed  them.  James 
appeared  like  magic  with  a  tray,  glasses,  and  tiny 
serviettes,  and  the  Colonel's  elixir  was  passed  to  the 
company. 

"To  your  beautiful  eyes,  Mrs.  Poundstone,"  was 
Pennington's  debonair  toast  as  he  fixed  Mrs.  P.'s  green 
orbs  with  his  own.  "Poundstone,  your  very  good 
health,  sir." 

"Dee-licious,"  murmured  Mrs.  Poundstone.  "Per 
fectly  dee-licious.  And  not  a  bit  strong ! " 

s^Have  another,"  her  hospitable  host  suggested,  and 
he  poured  it,  quite  oblivious  of  the  frightened  wink 
which  the  mayor  telegraphed  his  wife. 

"I  will,  if  Miss  Summer  will  join  me,"  Mrs.  P. 
acquiesced. 

"Thanks.  I  seldom  drink  a  cocktail,  and  one  is 
always  my  limit,"  Shirley  replied  smilingly. 

"Oh,  well,"  the  Colonef  retorted  agreeably,  "we'll 
make  it  a  three-cornered  festival.  Poundstone,  smoke 
up." 

They  "smoked  up,"  and  Poundstone  prayed  to 
his  rather  nebulous  gods  that  Mrs.  P.  would  not 
discuss  automobiles  during  the  dinner. 

Alas!  The  Colonel's  cocktails  were  not  unduly 
fortified,  but  for  all  that,  the  two  which  Mrs.  Pound- 
stone  had  assimilated  contained  just  sufficient  "kick" 
to  loosen  the  lady's  tongue  without  thickening  it. 
Consequently,  about  the  time  the  piece  de  resistance 


304         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

made  its  appearance,  she  threw  caution  to  the  winds 
and  adverted  to  the  subject  closest  to  her  heart. 

"I  was  telling  Henry  as  we  came  up  the  walk  how 
greatly  I  envied  you  that  beautiful  sedan,  Miss  Sum- 
ner,"  she  gushed.  "Isn't  it  a  perfectly  stunning 
car?" 

Poundstone  made  one  futile  attempt  to  head  her  off. 
"And  I  was  telling  Mrs.  Poundstone,"  he  struck  in 
with  a  pathetic  attempt  to  appear  humorous  and  con 
descending,  "that  a  little  jitney  was  our  gait,  and  that 
she  might  as  well  abandon  her  passionate  yearning  for  a 
closed  car.  Angelina,  my  dear,  something  tells  me 
I'm  going  to  enjoy  this  dinner  a  whole  lot  more  if 
you'll  just  make  up  your  mind  to  be  real  nice  and  re 
sign  yourself  to  the  inevitable." 

"Never,  my  dear,  never."  She  shook  a  coy  finger 
at  him.  "You  dear  old  tightie,"  she  cooed,  "you 
don't  realize  what  a  closed  car  means  to  a  woman." 
She  turned  to  Shirley.  "How  an  open  car  does  blow 
one  around,  my  dear!" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Shirley  innocently. 

"Heard  the  McKinnon  people  had  a  man  killed  up 
in  their  woods  yesterday,  Colonel,"  Poundstone  re 
marked,  hoping  against  hope  to  divert  the  conversa 
tion. 

"Yes.  The  fellow's  own  fault,"  Pennington  replied, 
"He  was  one  of  those  employees  who  held  to  the  opinion 
that  every  man  is  the  captain  of  his  own  soul  and  the 
sole  proprietor  of  his  own  body — hence  that  it  behooved 
him  to  look  after  both,  in  view  of  the  high  cost  of 
safety-appliances.  He  was  warned  that  the  logging- 
cable  was  weak  at  that  old  splice  and  liable  to  pull  out 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         305 

of  the  becket — and  sure  enough  it  did.  The  free  end 
of  the  cable  snapped  back  like  a  whip,  and " 

"I  hold  to  the  opinion,"  Mrs.  Poundstone  interrupted, 
"that  if  one  wishes  for  a  thing  hard  enough  and  just 
keeps  on  wishing,  one  is  bound  to  get  it." 

"My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Poundstone  impressively,  "if 
you  would  only  confine  yourself  to  wishing,  I  assure 
you  your  chances  for  success  would  be  infinitely 
brighter/' 

There  was  no  mistaking  this  rebuke;  even  two 
cocktails  were  powerless  to  render  Mrs.  Poundstone 
oblivious  to  it.  Shirley  and  her  uncle  saw  the  Mayor's 
lady  flush  slightly;  they  caught  the  glint  of  murder  in 
His  Honour's  eye;  and  the  keen  intelligence  of  each 
warned  them  that  closed  cars  should  be  a  closed  topic 
of  conversation  with  the  Poundstones.  With  the 
nicest  tact  in  the  world,  Shirley  adroitly  changed  the 
subject  to  some  tailored  shirt-waists  she  had  observed 
in  the  window  of  a  local  dry -goods  emporium  that  day, 
and  Mrs.  Poundstone  subsided. 

About  nine  o'clock,  Shirley,  in  response  to  a  meaning 
glance  from  her  relative,  tactfully  convoyed  Mrs. 
Poundstone  upstairs,  leaving  her  uncle  alone  with  his 
prey.  Instantly  Pennington  got  down  to  business. 

"Well,"  he  queried,  apropos  of  nothing,  "what  do 
you  hear  with  reference  to  the  Northern-California* 
Oregon  Railroad?" 

"Oh,  the  usual  amount  of  wind,  Colonel.  Nobody 
knows  what  to  make  of  that  outfit." 

Pennington  studied  the  end  of  his  cigar  a  moment. 
"Well,  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  that  project 
either,"  he  admitted  presently.  "But  while  it  looks 


306         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

like  a  fake,  I  have  a  suspicion  that  where  there's  so 
much  smoke,  one  is  likely  to  discover  a  little  fire.  I've 
been  waiting  to  see  whether  or  not  they  will  apply 
for  a  franchise  to  enter  the  city,  but  they  seem  to  be 
taking  their  time  about  it." 

"They  certainly  are  a  deliberate  crowd,"  the  Mayor 
murmured. 

"Have  they  made  any  move  to  get  a  franchise?" 
Pennington  asked  bluntly.  "If  they  have,  I  suppose 
you  would  be  the  first  man  to  hear  about  it.  I  don't 
mean  to  be  impertinent,"  he  added  with  a  gracious 
smile,  "but  the  fact  is  I  noticed  that  windbag  Ogilvy 
entering  your  office  in  the  city  hall  the  other  afternoon, 
and  I  couldn't  help  wondering  whether  his  visit  was 
social  or  official." 

"Social — so  far  as  I  could  observe,"  Poundstone  re> 
plied  truthfully,  wondering  just  how  much  Pennington 
knew,  and  rather  apprehensive  that  he  might  ge*  eaugh* 
in  a  lie  before  the  evening  was  over, 

"Preliminary  to  the  official  visit,  I  dare  say.'s 

The  Colonel  puffed  thoughtfully  for  a  while — for 
which  the  Mayor  was  grateful,  since  it  provided  time 
in  which*  to  organize  himself.  Suddenly,  however, 
Pennington  turned  toward  his  guest  and  fixed  the  latter 
with  a  serious  glance. 

"I  hadn't  anticipated  discussing  this  matter  with 
you,  Poundstone,  and  you  must  forgive  me  for  it;  but 
the  fact  is — I  might  as  well  be  frank  with  you — I  am 
very  greatly  interested  in  the  operation  of  this  proposed 
railroad." 

"Indeed!     Financially?" 

"Yes,  but  not  in  the  financial  way  you  think.     If 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         307 

railroad  is  built,  it  will  have  a  very  distinat  effect 
on  my  finances.** 

"In  just  what  way?** 

"Disastrous." 

"I  am  amazed,  Colonel." 

"You  wouldn't  if  you  had  given  the  subject  very  close 
consideration.  The  logical  route  for  this  railroad  is 
from  Willits  north  to  Sequoia,  not  from  Sequoia  north 
to  Grant's  Pass,  Oregon.  Such  a  road  as  the  N.  C.  O. 
contemplates  will  tap  about  one  third  of  the  redwood- 
belt  only,  while  a  line  built  in  from  the  south  will  tap 
two  thirds  of  it.  The  remaining  third  can  be  tapped 
by  an  extension  of  my  own  logging-road;  when  my  own 
timber  is  logged  out,  I  will  want  other  business  for  my 
road,  and  if  the  N.  C.  O.  parallels  it,  I  will  be  left  with 
two  streaks  of  rust  on  my  hands." 

"Ah,  I  perceive.     So  it  will,  so  it  will!" 

"You  agree  with  me,  then,  Poundstone,  that  the 
N.  C.  O.  is  not  designed  to  foster  the  best  interests  of 
the  community.  Of  course  you  do." 

"Well,  I  hadn't  given  the  subject  very  mature 
thought,  Colonel,  but  in  the  light  of  your  observations 
it  would  appear  that  you  are  quite  right." 

"Of  course  I  am  right.  I  take  it,  therefore,  that 
when  the  N.  C.  O.  applies  for  its  franchise  to  run 
through  Sequoia,  neither  you  nor  your  city  council  will 
consider  the  proposition  at  all." 

"I  cannot,  of  course,  speak  for  the  city  council 

Poundstone   began,    but   Pennington's    cold,  amused 
smile  froze  further  utterance. 

"Be  frank  with  me,  Poundstone.  I  am  not  a  child, 
What  I  would  like  to  know  is  this:  will  you  exert  every 


308         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

effort  to  block  that  franchise  in  the  firm  conviction  that 
by  so  doing  you  will  accomplish  a  laudable  public 
service?" 

Poundstone  squirmed.  "I  should  not  care,  at  this 
time,  to  go  on  record,"  he  replied  evasively.  "When  I 
have  had  time  to  look  into  the  matter  more  thor 
oughly " 

"Tut-tut,  my  dear  man!  Let  us  not  straddle  the 
fence.  Business  is  a  game,  and  so  is  politics.  Neither 
knows  any  sentiment.  Suppose  you  should  favour 
this  N.  C.  O.  crowd  in  a  mistaken  idea  that  you  were 
doing  the  right  thing,  and  that  subsequently  numberless 
fellow-citizens  developed  the  idea  that  you  had  not 
done  your  public  duty?  Would  some  of  them  not  be 
likely  to  invoke  a  recall  election  and  retire  you  and  your 
city  council — in  disgrace?" 

"I  doubt  if  they  could  defeat  me,  Colonel." 

"I  have  no  such  doubt,"  Pennington  replied  point 
edly. 

Poundstone  looked  up  at  him  from  under  lowered 
lids.  "Is  that  a  threat?"  he  demanded  tremulously. 

"My  dear  fellow!  Threaten  my  guest!5'  Penning 
ton  laughed  patronizingly.  "I  am  giving  you  advice, 
Poundstone — and  rather  good  advice,  it  strikes  me. 
However,  while  we're  on  the  subject,  I  have  no  hesi 
tancy  in  telling  you  that  in  the  event  of  a  disastrous  de 
cision  on  your  part,  I  should  not  feel  justified  in  sup 
porting  you." 

He  might,  with  equal  frankness,  have  said:  "1 
would  smash  you."  To  his  guest  his  meaning  was  not 
obscure.  Poundstone  studied  the  pattern  of  the  rug, 
and  Pennington,  watching  him  sharply,  saw  that  the 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         309 

man  was  distressed.  Then  suddenly  one  of  those 
brilliant  inspirations,  or  flashes  of  rare  intuition,  which 
had  helped  so  materially  to  fashion  Pennington  into  a 
captain  of  industry,  came  to  him.  He  resolved  on  a 
bold  stroke. 

"Let's  not  beat  about  the  bush,  Poundstone,"  he 
said  with  the  air  of  a  father  patiently  striving  to  induce 
his  child  to  recant  a  lie,  tell  the  truth,  and  save  himself 
from  the  parental  wrath.  "  You've  been  doing  business 
with  Ogilvy;  I  know  it  for  a  fact,  and  you  might  as  well 
admit  it." 

Poundstone  looked  up,  red  and  embarrassed.  "If  I 
had  known "  he  began. 

"  Certainly,  certainly !  I  realize  you  acted  in  perfect 
good  faith.  You're  like  the  majority  of  people  in 
Sequoia.  You're  all  so  crazy  for  rail-connection  with 
the  outside  world  that  you  jump  at  the  first  plan  that 
seems  to  promise  you  one.  Now,  I'm  as  eager  as  the 
others,  but  if  we  are  going  to  have  a  railroad,  I,  for  one, 
desire  the  right  kind  of  railroad;  and  the  N.  C.  O.  isn't 
the  right  kind — that  is,  not  for  the  interests  I  represent. 
Have  you  promised  Ogilvy  a  franchise?" 

There  was  no  dodging  that  question.  A  denial, 
under  the  present  circumstances,  would  be  tantamount 
to  an  admission;  Poundstone  could  not  guess  just  how 
much  the  Colonel  really  knew,  and  it  would  not  do  to 
lie  to  him,  since  eventually  the  lie  must  be  discovered. 
Caught  between  the  horns  of  a  dilemma,  Poundstone 
only  knew  that  Ogilvy  could  never  be  to  him  such  a 
powerful  enemy  as  Colonel  Seth  Pennington;  so,  after 
the  fashion  of  his  kind,  he  chose  the  lesser  of  two  evils, 
He  resolved  to  "come  clean," 


810         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GLINTS 

"The  city  council  has  already  granted  the  N.  C.  0, 
a  temporary  franchise,"  he  confessed. 

Pennington  sprang  furiously  to  his  feet.  "Dammit," 
he  snarled,  "why  did  you  do  that  without  consulting 
me?" 

"Didn't  know  you  were  remotely  interested."  Now 
that  the  ice  was  broken,  Poundstone  felt  relieved  and 
was  prepared  to  defend  his  act  vigorously.  "And  we 
did  not  commit  ourselves  irrevocably,"  he  continued. 
"The  temporary  franchise  will  expire  in  twenty-eight 
days — and  in  that  short  time  the  N.  C.  O.  cannot 
even  get  started." 

"Have  you  any  understanding  as  to  an  extension 
of  that  temporary  franchise,  in  case  the  N.  C.  O.  de 
sires  it?" 

"Well,  yes — not  in  writing,  however.  I  gave  Ogilvy 
to  understand  that  if  he  was  not  ready  in  thirty  days, 
an  extension  could  readily  be  arranged." 

"Any  witnesses?" 

"I  am  not  such  a  fool,  sir,"  Poundstone  declared 
with  asperity.  "I  had  a  notion — I  might  as  well  admit 
it — that  you  would  have  serious  objection  to  having 
your  tracks  cut  by  a  jump-crossing  at  B  and  Water 
streets."  And  for  no  reason  in  life  except  to  justify  him 
self  and  inculcate  in  Pennington  an  impression  that  the 
latter  was  dealing  with  a  crafty  and  far-seeing  mayor, 
Poundstone  smiled  boldly  and  knowingly.  "I  repeat," 
he  said,  "that  I  did  not  put  it  in  writing."  He  leaned 
back  nonchalantly  and  blew  smoke  at  the  ceiling. 

" You  oily  rascal ! "'  Pennington  soliloquized.  "You're 
&  smarter  man  than  I  thought.  You're  trying  to  play 
both  ends  against  the  middle."  He  recalled  the  report 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         311 

of  his  private  detective  and  the  incident  of  Ogilvy's  visit 
to  young  Henry  Poundstone's  office  with  a  small  leather 
bag;  he  was  more  than  ever  convinced  that  this  bag 
had  contained  the  bribe,  in  gold  coin,  which  had  been 
productive  of  that  temporary  franchise  and  the  verbal 
understanding  for  its  possible  extension. 

"Ogilvy  did  business  with  you  through  your  son 
Henry,"  he  challenged.  Poundstone  started  violently. 
"How  much  did  Henry  get  out  of  it?"  Pemiington 
continued  brutally. 

"Two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  retainer,  and  not  a 
cent  more,"  Poundstone  protested  virtuously — and 
truthfully. 

"You're  not  so  good  a  business  man  as  I  gave  you 
credit  for  being,"  the  Colonel  retorted  mirthfully 
"Two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars!  Oh,  Lord!  Pound- 
stone,  you're  funny.  Upon  my  word,  you're  a  scream." 
And  the  Colonel  gave  himself  up  to  a  sincerely  hearty 
laugh.  "  You  call  it  a  retainer,"  he  continued  presently, 
"but  a  grand  jury*  might  call  it  something  else.  How 
ever,"  he  went  on  after  a  slight  pause,  "you're  not  in 
politics  for  your  health;  so  let's  get  down  to  brass  tacks. 
How  much  do  you  want  to  deny  the  X.  C.  O.  not  only 
&A  extension  of  that  temporary  franchise  but  also  a 
permanent  franchise  when  they  apply  for  it?" 

Poundstone  rose  with  great  dignity.  "Colonel 
Pennington,  sir,"  he  said,  "you  insult  me." 

"Sit  down.  You've  been  insulted  that  way  before 
now.  Shall  we  say  one  thousand  dollars  per  each  for 
your  three  good  councilmen  and  true,  and  for  yourself 
that  sedan  of  my  niece's?  It's  a  good  car.  Last 
year's  model,  but  only  run  about  four  thousand  miles 


312         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

and  in  tiptop  condition.  It's  always  had  the  best  of 
care,  and  I  imagine  it  will  please  Mrs.  P.  immensely 
and  grant  you  surcease  from  sorrow.  Of  course, 
I  will  not  give  it  to  you.  I'll  sell  it  to  you — five  hundred 
down  upon  the  signing  of  the  agreement,  and  in  lieu 
of  the  cash,  I  will  take  over  that  jitney  Mrs.  Poundstone 
finds  so  distasteful.  Then  I  will  employ  your  son 
Henry  as  the  attorney  for  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber 
Company  and  give  him  a  retainer  of  twenty-five  hun 
dred  dollars  for  one  year.  I  will  leave  it  to  you  to  get 
this  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  from  Henry  and  pay 
iny  niece  cash  for  the  car.  Doesn't  that  strike  you  a? 
a  perfectly  safe  and  sane  proposition?" 

Had  a  vista  of  paradise  opened  up  before  Mr.  Pound- 
stone,  he  could  not  have  been  more  thrilled.  He  had 
been  absolutely  honest  in  his  plea  to  Mrs.  Poundstone 
that  he  could  not  afford  a  thirty-two-hundred-and- 
fifty-dollar  sedan,  much  as  he  longed  to  oblige  her 
and  gain  a  greatly  to  be  desired  peace.  And  now  the 
price  was  dangling  before  his  eyes,  so  to  speak.  At 
any  rate  it  was  parked  in  the  porte-cochere  not  fifty 
feet  distant! 

For  the  space  of  a  minute  the  Mayor  weighed  his 
son's  future  as  a  corporation  attorney  against  his  OWD 
future  as  mayor  of  Sequoia — and  Henry  lost. 

"It  might  be  arranged,  Colonel,"  he  murmured  in  s* 
low  voice — the  voice  of  shame. 

"It  is  already  arranged,"  the  Colonel  replied  cheer* 
fully.  "Leave  your  jit  at  the  front  gate  and  drive 
home  in  Shirley's  car.  I'll  arrange  matters  with  her." 
He  laughed  shortly.  "It  means,  of  course,  that  I'll 
tave  to  telegraph  to  San  Francisco  to-morrow  and  buy 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         313 

her  a  later  model.  Thank  goodness,  she  has  a  birthday 
to-morrow!  Have  a  fresh  cigar,  Mayor." 

Riding  home  that  night  in  Shirley  Sumner's  car 
Mrs.  Poundstone  leaned  suddenly  toward  her  husband, 
threw  a  fat  arm  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him.  "Oh, 
Henry,  you  darling!"  she  purred.  "What  did  I  tell 
you?  If  a  person  only  wishes  hard  enough— 

"Oh,  go  to  the  devil!"  he  roared  angrily.  "You've 
nagged  me  into  it.  Shut  up  and  take  your  arm  away. 
Do  you  want  me  to  wreck  the  car  before  we've  had  it  an 
hour?" 

As  for  Colonel  Pennington,  he  had  little  difficulty 
hi  explaining  the  deal  to  Shirley,  who  was  sleepy  and 
not  at  all  interested.  The  Poundstones  had  bored  her 
to  extinction,  and  upon  her  uncle's  assurance  that  she 
would  have  a  new  car  within  a  week,  she  thanked  him 
and  for  the  first  time  retired  without  offering  her  cheek 
for  his  good-night  kiss.  Shortly  thereafter  the  Colonel 
sought  his  own  virtuous  couch  and  prepared  to  surren 
der  himself  to  the  first  good  sleep  in  three  weeks.  He 
laid  the  flattering  unction  to  his  soul  that  Bryce  Cardi 
gan  had  dealt  him  a  poor  hand  from  a  marked  deck  and 
he  had  played  it  exceedingly  well.  "Lucky  I  blocked 
the  young  beggar  from  getting  those  rails  out  of  the 
Laurel  Creek  spur,"  he  mused,  "or  he'd  have  had  his 
jump-crossing  in  overnight — and  then  where  the  devil 
would  I  have  been?  Up  Salt  Creek  without  a  paddle — 
and  all  the  courts  in  Christendom  would  avail  me 
nothing." 

He  was  dozing  off,  when  a  sound  smote  upon  his 
ears.  Instantly  he  was  wide  awake,  listening  intently, 
his  head  cocked  on  one  side.  The  sound  grew  louder/ 


314         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

evidently  it  was  approaching  Sequoia — and  with  a 
bound  the  Colonel  sat  up  in  bed,  trembling  in  every 
limb. 

Suddenly,  out  of  the  deep,  rumbling  diapason  he 
heard  a  sharp  click — then  another  and  another.  He 
counted  them — six  in  all. 

"A  locomotive  and  two  flat-cars!"  he  murmured. 
"And  they  just  passed  over  the  switch  leading  from 
the  main-line  tracks  out  to  my  log-dump.  That  means 
the  tram  is  going  down  Water  Street  to  the  switch 
into  Cardigan's  yard.  By  George,  they've  outwitted 
me!" 

With  the  agility  of  a  boy  he  sprang  into  his  clothes, 
raced  downstairs,  and  leaped  into  Mayor  Poundstone's 
jitney,  standing  in  the  darkness  at  the  front  gate. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  success  of  Bryce  Cardigan's  plan  for  getting 
his  rails  down  from  Laurel  Creek  depended  en 
tirely  upon  the  whimsy  which  might  seize  the 
crew  of  the  big  mogul  that  hauled  the  last  load  of  logs 
out  of  Cardigan's  redwoods  on  Thursday  afternoon. 
Should  the  engineer  and  fireman  decide  to  leave  the 
locomotive  at  the  logging-camp  for  the  night,  Bryce's 
task  would  be  as  simple  as  turning  a  hose  down  a 
squirrel-hole.  On  the  other  hand,  should  they  run 
back  to  Sequoia  with  the  engine,  he  and  Ogilvy  faced 
the  alternative  of  "borrowing"  it  from  the  Laguna 
Grande  Lumber  Company's  roundhouse;  and  that 
operation,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  Pennington's  night 
watchman  would  be  certain  to  hear  the  engine  leaving, 
offered  difficulties. 

Throughout  the  afternoon,  after  having  sent  his 
orders  in  writing  to  the  woods-boss,  via  George  Sea 
Otter  (for  he  dared  not  trust  to  the  telephone),  he 
waited  in  his  office  for  a  telephone-call  from  the  logging- 
camp  as  to  what  action  the  engine-crew  had  taken. 
He  could  not  work;  he  could  not  think.  He  only  knew 
that  all  depended  upon  the  success  of  his  coup  to-night. 
Finally,  at  a  quarter  of  six,  Curtis,  his  woods-boss 
rang  in. 

"They're  staying  here  all  night,  sir,"  he  reported. 

"House  them  as  far  from  the  log-landing  as  possible, 

315 


316         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

and  organize  a  poker-game  to  keep  them  busy  in  case 
they  don't  go  to  bed  before  eight  o'clock,"  Bryce  or 
dered.  "In  the  meantime,  send  a  man  you  can  trust — 
Jim  Harding,  who  runs  the  big  bull-donkey,  will  do — 
down  to  the  locomotive  to  keep  steam  up  until  I  ar 


rive." 


He  had  scarcely  hung  up,  when  Buck  Ogilvy  came  in 
to  the  office.  "Well?"  he  queried  casually. 

"Safe-o,  Buck!"  replied  Bryce.  "How  about  your 
end  of  the  contract?" 

"  Crowbars,  picks,  shovels,  hack-saws  to  cut  the  rails, 
lanterns  to  work  by,  and  men  to  do  the  work  will  be 
cached  in  your  lumber-yard  by  nine  o'clock,  waiting 
for  the  rails  to  arrive." 

Bryce  nodded  his  approval.  "  Then  I  suppose  there's 
nothing  to  do  but  get  a  bite  of  dinner  and  proceed  to 
business." 

Buck  insisted  on  keeping  an  engagement  to  dine  with 
Moira,  and  Bryce  agreed  to  call  for  him  at  the  Bon 
Gusto  restaurant.  Then  Bryce  went  home  to  dine  with 
his  father.  Old  Cardigan  was  happier  than  his  son 
had  seen  him  since  the  return  of  the  latter  to  Sequoia. 

"Well,  sonny,  I've  had  a  mighty  pleasant  afternoon," 
lie  declared  as  Bryce  led  him  to  the  dinner-table.  "  I've 
been  up  to  the  Valley  of  the  Giants." 

Bryce  was  amazed.     "Why,  how  could  you?"  he  de 
manded.     "The  old  skid-road  is  impassable,  and  after 
you  leave  the  end  of  the  skid-road,  the  trail  in  to 
Mother's  grave  is  so  overgrown  with  buckthorn  and 
lilac  I  doubt  if  a  rabbit  could  get  through  it  com- 
• 

t  a  bit  of  it,"  the  olcr  man  replied'.     "Somebody 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         317 

has  gone  to  work  and  planked  that  old  skid-road  and 
put  up  a  hand-railing  on  each  side,  while  the  trail 
through  the  Giants  has  been  grubbed  out  and  smoothed 
over.  All  that  old  logging-cable  I  abandoned  in  those 
choppings  has  been  strung  from  tree  to  tree  alongside 
the  path  on  both  sides.  I  can  go  up  there  alone  now, 
once  George  sets  me  on  the  old  skid-road;  I  can't  get 
lost." 

"How  did  you  discover  this?"  Bryee  demanded. 

"Judge  Moore,  representing  the  new  owner,  called 
round  this  morning  and  took  me  in  tow.  He  said  his 
client  knew  the  property  held  for  me  a  certain  sentimen 
tal  value  which  wasn't  transferred  in  the  deed,  and  so 
the  Judge  had  been  instructed  to  have  the  skid-road 
planked  and  the  forest  trail  grubbed  out — for  me.  It 
appears  that  the  Valley  is  going  to  be  a  public  park, 
after  all,  but  for  the  present  and  while  I  live,  it  is  my 
private  park." 

"This  is  perfectly  amazing,  partner." 

"It's  mighty  comforting,"  his  father  admitted. 
"  Guess  the  new  owner  must  be  one  of  my  old  friends— 
perhaps  somebody  I  did  a  favour  for  once — and  this 
is  his  way  of  repaying.  Remember  the  old  sugar-pine 
windfall  we  used  to  sit  on?  Well,  it's  rotted  through, 
and  bears  have  clawed  it  into  chips  in  their  search  for 
grubs,  but  the  new  owner  had  a  seat  put  in  there  for  me 
— just  the  kind  of  seat  I  like — a  lumberjack's  rocking- 
chair  made  from  an  old  vinegar-barrel.  I  sat  in  it, 
and  the  Judge  left  me,  and  I  did  a  right  smart  lot  o' 
thinking.  And  while  it  didn't  lead  me  anywhere,  still 

"You  felt  better,  didn't  you?"  his  son  suggested 


318         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

John  Cardigan  nodded.  "I'd  like  to  know  the  name 
of  the  owner,"  he  said  presently.  "I'd  like  mighty  well 
to  say  thank  you  to  him.  It  isn't  usual  for  people  now 
adays  to  have  as  much  respect  for  sentiment  in  an  old 
duffer  like  me  as  the  fellow  has.  He  sort  of  makes 
me  feel  as  if  I  hadn't  sold  at  all." 

Buck  Ogilvy  came  out  of  the  Bon  Gusto  restaurant 
with  Moira,  just  as  Bryce,  with  George  Sea  Otter  at 
the  wheel  of  the  Napier,  drove  up  to  the  curb.  They 
left  Moira  at  her  boarding-house,  and  rolled  noiselessly 
away. 

At  nine  o'clock  they  arrived  at  Cardigan's  log-landing 
and  found  Jim  Harding,  the  bull-donkey  engineer, 
placidly  smoking  his  pipe  in  the  cab.  Bryce  hailed  him. 

"That  you,  Jim?" 

"You  bet." 

"Run  up  to  Jabe  Curtis's  shanty,  and  tell  him  we're 
here.  Have  him  gather  his  gang  and  bring  two  pairs  of 
overalls  and  two  jumpers — large  size — with  him  when 
he  comes." 

Harding  vanished  into  the  darkness,  and  Buck  Ogilvy 
climbed  up  into  the  cab  and  glanced  at  the  steam-gauge. 
"A  hundred  and  forty,"  he  announced.  "Good 
enough ! " 

Presently  the  woods-boss,  accompanied  by  thirty  of 
his  best  men,  came  down  to  the  log-landing.  At  Bryce%- 
order  they  clambered  aboard  the  engine  and  tender, 
hanging  on  the  steps,  on  the  roof  of  the  cab,  on  the  cow* 
catcher — anywhere  they  could  find  a  toe-hold.  Hard 
ing  cast  aside  the  two  old  ties  which  the  careful  engine- 
crew  had  placed  across  the  tracks  in  front  of  the  drivers 
as  additional  precaution;  Buck  Ogilvy  cut  off  the  air/ 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         319 

br.d  the  locomotive  and  tender  began  to  glide  slowly 
down  the  almost  imperceptible  grade.  With  a  slight 
click  it  cleared  the  switca  and  slid  out  onto  the  Cardigan 
lateral,  swiftly  gathering  speed.  A  quarter  of  a  mile 
down  the  line  Buck  Ogilvy  applied  the  brakes  and  eased 
her  down  to  twenty  miles  per  hour. 

At  the  junction  with  the  main  line  Buck  backed 
briskly  up  into  the  Laguna  Grande  v/oods,  and  coupled 
to  the  two  loaded  flat-cars.  The  woods-gang  scrambled 
aboard  the  flats,  and  the  train  pulled  out  for  Sequoia. 
Forty  minutes  later  they  rumbled  down  Water  Street 
and  slid  to  a  grinding  halt  at  the  intersection  of  B 
Street. 

From  the  darkness  of  Cardigan's  drying-yard,  wher- 
they  had  been  waiting,  twenty  picked  men  of  the  mill- 
crew  now  emerged,  bearing  lanterns  and  tools.  Under 
Buck  Ogilvy's  direction  the  dirt  promptly  began  to  fly, 
while  the  woods-crew  unloaded  the  rails  and  piled  them 
close  to  the  sidewalk. 

Suddenly  a  voice,  harsh  and  strident  with  passion, 
rose  above  the  thud  of  the  picks  and  the  clang  of  metal. 

"Who's  in  charge  here,  and  what  in  blazes  do  you 
mean  by  cutting  my  tracks?" 

Bryce  turned  in  time  to  behold  Colonel  Seth  Penning 
ton  leap  from  an  automobile  and  advance  upon  Buck 
Ogilvy.  Ogilvy  held  a  lantern  up  to  the  Colonel's  face 
and  surveyed  Pennington  calmly. 

"Colonel,"  he  began  with  exasperating  politeness, 

— I  presume  you  are  Colonel  Pennington — my  name 

is  Buchanan  P.  Ogilvy,  and  I  am  in  charge  of  t-^se 

operations.     I    am    the    vice-president    and    general 

manager  of  the  N    C.  O.,  and  I  am  engaged  in  the 


3£0  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

blithe  task  of  making  a  jump-crossing  of  your  rails.  I 
had  hoped  to  accomplish  this  without  your  knowledge 
or  consent,  but  now  that  you  are  here,  that  hope,  of 
course,  has  died  a-bornin'.  Have  a  cigar."  And  he 
thrust  a  perfecco  under  the  Colonel's  nose.  Pennington 
struck  it  to  the  ground,  and  on  the  instant,  half  a 
dozen  rough  rascals  emptied  their  shovels  over  him.  He 
was  deluged  with  dirt. 

"Stand  back,  Colonel,  stand  back,  if  you  please. 
You're  in  the  way  of  the  shovellers,"  Buck  Ogilvy  warned 
him  soothingly. 

Bryce  Cardigan  came  over,  and  at  sight  of  him 

Pennington  choked  with  fury.  "You — you "  he 

sputtered,  unable  to  say  more. 

"I'm  the  N.  C.  O.,"  Bryce  replied.  "Nice  little 
fiction  that  of  yours  about  the  switch-engine  being  laid 
up  in  the  shops  and  the  Laurel  Creek  bridge  being  un 
safe  for  this  big  mogul."  He  looked  Pennington  over 
with  frank  admiration.  "You're  certainly  on  the  job, 
Colonel.  I'll  say  that  much  for  you.  The  man  who 
plans  to  defeat  you  must  jump  far  and  fast,  or  his  tail 
will  be  trod  on." 

"You've  stolen  my  engine,"  Pennington  almost 
screamed.  "I'll  have  the  law  on  you  for  grand  lar 
ceny." 

"Tut-tut!  You  don't  know  who  stole  your  engine. 
For  all  you  know,  your  own  engine-crew  may  have  run 
it  down  here." 

"I'll  attend  to  you,  sir,"  Pennington  replied,  and  he 
turned  to  enter  Mayor  Poundstone's  little  flivver. 

"Not  to-night,  at  least,"  Bryce  retorted  gently. 
^Having  gone  this  far,  I  would  be  a  poor  general  t<r 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         321 

permit  you  to  escape  now  with  the  news  of  your  dis 
covery.  You'd  be  down  here  in  an  hour  with  a  couple 
of  hundred  members  of  your  mill-crew  and  give  us  the 
rush.  You  will  oblige  me,  Colonel  Pennington,  by 
remaining  exactly  where  you  are  until  I  give  you  per 
mission  to  depart." 

"And  if  I  refuse " 

"Then  I  shall  manhandle  you,  truss  you  up 
like  a  fowl  in  the  tonneau  of  your  car,  and  gag 
you." 

To  Bryce's  infinite  surprise  the  Colonel  smiled. 
"Oh,  very  well!"  he  replied.  "I  guess  you've  got  the 
bulge  on  me,  young  man.  Do  you  mind  if  I  sit  in 
the  warm  cab  of  my  own  engine?  I  came  away  in  such 
a  hurry  I  quite  forgot  my  overcoat." 

"Not  at  all.  I'll  sit  up  there  and  keep  you  corn- 
pan,  ." 

Half  an  hour  passed.  An  automobile  came  slowly  up 
Water  Street  and  paused  half  a  block  away,  evidently 
reconnoitering  the  situation,  instantly  the  Colonel 
thrust  his  head  out  the  cab  window. 

"Sexton!"  he  shouted.  "Cardigan's  cutting  in  a 
crossing.  He's  holding  me  here  against  my  will.  Get 
the  mill-crew  together  and  phone  for  Rondeau  and  his 
woods-crew.  Send  the  switch-engine  and  a  couple  of 
flats  up  for  them.  Phone  Poundstone.  Tell  him  to 
have  the  chief  of  police " 

Bryce  Cardigan's  great  hand  closed  over  the  Colonel's 
neck,  while  down  Water  Street  a  dark  streak  that  was 
Buck  Ogilvy  sped  toward  the  automobile,  intending 
to  climb  in  and  make  Pennington's  manager  a  prisoner 
also.  He  was  too  late,  however.  Sexton  swung  iiis 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  .GIANTS 

car  and  departed  at  full  speed  down  Water  Street,' 
leaving  the  disappointed  Buck  to  return  panting  to 
the  scene  of  operations. 

Bryce  Cardigan  released  his  hold  on  Pennington's 
neck.  "You  win,  Colonel,"  he  announced.  "No  good 
can  come  of  holding  you  here  any  longer.  Into  your 
car  and  on  your  way." 

"Thank  you,  young  man,"  the  Colonel  answered,  and 
there  was  a  metallic  ring  in  his  voice.  He  looked  at 
his  watch  in  the  glare  of  a  torch.  "Plenty  of  time," 
he  murmured.  "Curfew  shall  not  ring  to-night." 
Quite  deliberately  he  climbed  into  the  Mayor's  late 
source  of  woe  and  breezed  away. 

Colonel  Pennington  did  not  at  once  return  to  his 
home,  however.     Instead,  he  drove  up  to  the  business 
centre  of  the  town.     The  streets  were  deserted,  but 
'one  saloon — the  Sawdust  Pile — was  still  open. 

Pennington  strode  through  the  bar  and  into  the  back 
room,  where  a  number  of  poker-games  were  in  progress. 
For  a  moment  he  stood,  his  cold,  ophidian  glance 
circling  the  room  until  it  came  to  rest  on  no  less  a  per 
sonage  than  the  Black  Minorca,  an  individual  with 
whom  the  reader  has  already  had  some  slight  acquain 
tance.  It  will  be  recalled  that  the  Black  Minorca  led 
the  futile  rush  against  Bryce  Cardigan  that  day  in, 
Pennington's  woods. 

The  Colonel  approached  the  table  where  the  Black 
Minorca  sat  thumbing  the  edges  of  his  cards,  and 
touched  the  cholo  on  the  shoulder.  The  Black  Minorca 
turned,  and  Pennington  nodded  to  him  to  follow;  where 
upon  the  latter  cashed  in  his  chips  and  joined  his 
employer  on  the  sidewalk.  Here  a  whispered  con- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GLINTS         323 

versation  ensued,  and  at  its  conclusion  the  Black 
Minorca  nodded  vigorously. 

"Sure!"  he  assured  the  Colonel.  "I'll  fix  'em  good 
and  plenty." 

Together  Pennington  and  the  Black  Minorca  entered 
the  automobile  and  proceeded  swiftly  to  the  Laguna 
Grande  Lumber  Company's  mill-office.  From  a  locker 
the  Colonel  produced  a  repeating  rifle  and  three  boxes 
of  cartridges,  which  he  handed  to  the  cholo,  who  depart 
ed  without  further  ado  into  the  night. 

Twenty  minutes  later,  from  the  top  of  a  lumber-pile 
in  Cardigan's  drying-yard,  Bryce  Cardigan  saw  the 
flash  of  a  rifle  and  felt  a  sudden  sting  on  his  left  fore 
arm.  He  leaped  around  in  front  of  the  cowcatcher 
to  gain  the  shelter  of  the  engine,  and  another  bullet 
struck  at  his  feet  and  ricocheted  off  into  the  night.  It 
was  followed  by  a  fusillade,  the  bullets  kicking  up  the 
freshly  disturbed  earth  among  the  workers  and  sending 
them  scurrying  to  various  points  of  safety.  In  an 
instant  the  crossing  was  deserted,  and  work  had  been 
stopped,  while  from  the  top  of  the  adjacent  lumber-pile 
the  Black  Minorca  poured  a  stream  of  lead  and  filthy 
invective  at  every  point  which  he  suspected  of  har 
bouring  a  Cardigan  follower. 

"I  don't  think  he's  hurt  anybody,"  Buck  Ogilvy  whis 
pered  as  he  crouched  with  Bryce  beside  the  engine, 
"but  that's  due  to  his  marksmanship  rather  than  his 
intentions." 

"He  tried  hard  enough  to  plug  me,"  Bryce  declared, 
and  showed  the  hole  through  his  sleeve.  "They  call 
him  the  Black  Minorca,  and  he's  a  mongrel  greaser 
who'd  kill  his  own  mother  for  a  fifty-dollar  bill." 


324         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"I'd  like  to  plug  him,"  Buck  murmured  regretfully. 
,     "What  would  be  the  use?     This  will  be  his  last 
night  in  Humboldt  County " 

A  rifle  shot  rang  out  from  the  side  of  B  Street;  from 
the  lumber-pile  across  the  street,  Bryce  and  Ogilvy 
heard  a  suppressed  grunt  of  pain,  and  a  crash  as  of  a 
breaking  board.  Instantly  out  of  the  shadows  George 
Sea  Otter  came  padding  on  velvet  feet,  rifle  in  hand — 
and  then  Bryce  understood. 

"All  right,  boss,"  said  George  simply  as  he  joined 
Bryce  and  Ogilvy  under  the  lee  of  the  locomotive. 
"Now  we  get  busy  again." 

"Safe-o,  men,"  Ogilvy  called.  "Back  to  the  job." 
And  while  Bryce,  followed  by  the  careless  George  Sea 
Otter,  went  into  the  lumber-yard  to  succour  the  enemy, 
Ogilvy  set  an  example  to  the  men  by  stepping  into  the 
open  and  starting  briskly  to  work  with  a  shovel. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  pile  of  lumber  the  Black 
Minorca  was  discovered  with  a  severe  flesh-wound  in 
his  right  hip;  also  he  was  suffering  from  numerous 
bruises  and  contusions.  George  Sea  Otter  possessed 
himself  of  the  fallen  dido's  rifle,  while  Bryce  picked 
the  wretch  up  and  carried  him  to  his  automobile. 

"Take  the  swine  over  to  the  Laguna  Grande  Lum 
ber  Company's  hospital  and  tell  them  to  patch  him 
up,"  he  ordered  George  Sea  Otter.  "I'll  keep  both 
rifles  and  the  ammunition  here  for  Jules  Rondeau  and 
his  woods-gang.  They'll  probably  be  dropping  in  on  us 
about  two  A.  M.,  if  I  know  anything  about  Colonel 
Pennington's  way  of  doing  things." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

HAVING  dispatched  the  Black  Minorca  to  hold 
up  the  work  until  the  arrival  of  reinforcements, 
Colonel  Pennington  fairly  burned  the  streets 
en  route  to  his  home.  He  realized  that  there  would  be 
no  more  sleep  for  him  that  night,  and  he  was  desirous 
of  getting  into  a  heavy  ulster  before  venturing  forth 
again  into  the  night  air. 

The  violent  slam  with  which  he  closed  the  front  door 
after  him  brought  Shirley,  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers, 
to  the  staircase. 

"Uncle  Seth!"  she  called. 

"  Here ! "  he  replied  from  the  hall  below. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"There's  the  devil  to  pay,"  he  answered.  "That 
fellow  Cardigan  is  back  of  the  N.  C.  O.,  after  all,  and 
he  and  Ogilvy  have  a  gang  of  fifty  men  down  at  the 
intersection  of  Water  and  B  streets,  cutting  in  a  jump- 
crossing  of  our  line." 

He  dashed  into  the  living  room,  and  she  heard  him 
calling  frantically  into  the  telephone. 

"At  last!"  she  murmured,  and  crept  down  the 
stairs,  pausing  behind  the  heavy  portieres  at  the  en 
trance  to  the  living  room. 

"That  you,  Poundstone?"  she  heard  him  saying 
rapidly  into  the  transmitter.  "Pennington  speaking. 
Young  Bryce  Cardigan  is  behind  that  N.  C.  O.  outfit^ 

m 


326         THE  VALLEY  O<>   THE  GIANTS 

i 

and  it's  a  logging-road  and  not  intended  to  build 
through  to  Grant's  Pass  at  all.  Cardigan  and  Ogilvy 
are  at  Water  and  B  streets  this  very  instant  with  a 
gang  of  fifty  men  cutting  in  a  jump-crossing  of  my 
line,  curse  them!  They'll  have  it  in  by  six  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning  if  something  isn't  done — and  once 
they  get  it  in,  the  fat's  in  the  fire. 

"Telephone  the  -chief  of  police  and  order  him  to 
take  his  entire  force  down  there,  if  necessary,  and  stop 
that  work.  To  blazes  with  that  temporary  franchise! 
You  stop  that  work  for  two  hours,  and  I'll  do  the  rest. 
Tell  the  chief  of  police  not  to  recognize  that  temporary 
franchise.  He  can  be  suspicious  of  it,  can't  he,  and 
refuse  to  let  the  work  go  on  until  he  finds  you?  And 
you  can  be  hard  to  find  for  two  hours,  can  you 
not?  Delay,  delay,  man!  That's  all  I  want.  .  .  . 
Yes,  yes,  I  understand.  You  get  down  about  daylight 
and  roast  the  chief  of  police  for  interfering,  but  in  the 
meantime!  .  .  .  Thank  you,  Poundstone,  thank 
you.  Good-bye." 

He  stood  at  the  telephone,  the  receiver  still  held  to 
his  ear  and  his  right  forefinger  holding  down  the  hook 
while  the  line  cleared.  When  he  spoke  again,  Shirley 
knew  he  was  calling  his  mill-office.  He  got  a  response 
immediately,  notwithstanding  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

"Sexton?  Pennington  speaking.  I've  sent  over 
the  Black  Minorca  with  a  rifle  and  sixty  rounds 
of  ammunition.  .  .  .  What?  You  can  hear  him 
shooting  already?  Bully  boy  with  a  crockery  eye! 
He'll  clean  that  gang  out  and  keep  them  from  working 
until  the  police  arrive.  You've  telephoned  Rondeau, 
have  you?  .  .  .  Good!  He'll  have  his  mej> 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         327 

waiting  at  the  log-landing,  and  there'll  be  no  delay. 
As  soon  as  you've  seen  the  switch-engine  started  for 
the  woods,  meet  me  down  at  Water  and  B  streets. 
Sexton,  we've  got  to  block  them.  It  means  a  loss  of 
millions  to  me  if  we  fail ! " 

Shirley  was  standing  in  the  doorway  as  he  faced 
about  from  the  telephone.  "Uncle  Seth,"  she  said 
quietly,  "use  any  honourable  method  of  defeating 
Bryce  Cardigan,  but  call  off  the  Black  Minorca.  I 
shall  hold  you  personally  responsible  for  Bryce  Car 
digan's  life,  and  if  you  fail  me,  I  shall  never  forgive  you.'* 

"  Silly,  silly  girl ! "  he  soothed  her.  "  Don't  you  know 
I  would  not  stoop  to  bush- whacking?  There's  some 
shooting  going  on,  but  its  wild  shooting,  just  to  frighten 
Cardigan  and  his  men  off  the  job." 

"You  can't  frighten  him,"  she  cried  passionately. 
"You  know  you  can't.  He'll  kill  the  Black  Minorca, 
or  the  Black  Minorca  will  kill  him.  Go  instantly  and 
stop  it." 

"All  right,  all  right!"  he  said  rather  humbly,  and 
sprang  down  the  front  steps  into  the  waiting  car.  "I'll 
play  the  game  fairly,  Shirley,  never  fear." 

She  stood  in  the  doorway  and  watched  the  red 
tail-light,  like  a  malevolent  eye,  disappear  down  the 
street.  And  presently  as  she  stood  there,  down  the 
boulevard  a  huge  gray  car  came  slipping  noiselessly — 
so  noiselessly,  in  fact,  that  Shirley  recognized  it  by 
that  very  quality  of  silence.  It  was  Bryce  Cardigan's 
Napier. 

"  George ! "  she  called.     "  Come  here." 

The  car  slid  over  to  the  gate  and  stopped  at  the  sight 
of  the  slim  white  figure  running  down  the  garden  walk. 


328         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Is  Mr.  Cardigan  hurt?"  she  demanded  in  an  agony 
of  suspense. 

George  Sea  Otter  grunted  contemptuously.  "No 
body  hurt  'cept  the  Black  Minorca.  I  am  taking  him 
to  your  company  hospital,  miss.  He  tried  to  shoot 
my  boss,  so  I  shoot  him  myself  once  through  the  leg. 
Now  my  boss  says:  'Take  him  to  the  Laguna  Grande 
hospital,  George.'  Me,  I  would  drop  this  greaser  in 
the  bay  if  I  was  the  boss." 

She  laughed  hysterically.  "On  your  way  back 
from  the  hospital  stop  and  pick  me  up,  George,"  she 
ordered.  "This  senseless  feud  has  gone  far  enough. 
I  must  stop  it — at  once." 

He  touched  his  broad  hat,  and  she  returned  to  the 
house  to  dress. 

Meanwhile  Colonel  Pennington  had  reached  the 
crossing  once  more,  simultaneously  with  the  arrival  of 
Sam  Perkins,  the  chief  of  police,  accompanied  by 
two  automobiles  crammed  with  patrolmen.  Perkins 
strutted  up  to  Bryce  Cardigan  and  Buck  Ogilvy. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  all  this  row,  Mr.  Cardigan?" 
he  demanded. 

"Something  has  slipped,  Sam,"  Bryce  retorted 
pleasantly.  "You've  been  calling  me  Bryce  for  the 
past  twenty  years,  and  now  you're  mistering  me!  The 
meaning  of  this  row,  you  ask?"  Bryce  continued. 
"Well,  I'm  engaged  in  making  a  jump-crossing  of 
Colonel  Pennington's  tracks,  under  a  temporary 
franchise  granted  me  by  the  city  of  Sequoia.  Here's 
the  franchise."  And  he  thrust  the  document  under 
the  police  chief's  nose. 

"This  is  the  first  I've  heard  about  any  franchise," 


THE  VALLEY  0F  THE  GIANTS        329 

Sain  Perkins  replied  suspiciously  0  "Seems  to  me  you 
been  mighty  secret  about  this  job  How  do  I  know 
this  ain't  a  forgery?" 

"Call  up  the  mayor  and  ask  him/'  Bryce  suggested. 

"I'll  do  that,"  quoth  Mr.  Perkins  ponderously. 
"And  in  the  meantime,  don't  do  any  mo  re  digging  or 
rail-cutting."  He  hurried  away  to  his  automobile, 
leaving  a  lieutenant  in  charge  of  the  squad. 

"Also  in  the  meantime,  young  man,"  Colonel 
Pennington  announced,  "you  will  pardon  me  if  I  take 
possession  of  my  locomotive  and  flat-cars.  I  observe 
you  have  finished  unloading  those  rails." 
•  "Help  yourself,  Colonel,"  Bryce  replied  with  an 
assumption  of  heartiness  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

"  Thank  you  so  much,  Cardigan."  With  the  greatest 
good  nature  in  life,  Pennington  climbed  into  the  cab, 
reached  for  the  bell-cord,  and  rang  the  bell  vigorously. 
Then  he  permitted  himself  a  triumphant  toot  of  the 
whistle,  after  which  he  threw  off  the  air  and  gently 
opened  the  throttle.  He  was  not  a  locomotive-engineer 
but  he  had  ridden  in  the  cab  of  his  own  locomotive  and 
felt  quite  confident  of  his  ability  in  a  pinch. 

With  a  creak  and  a  bump  the  train  started,  and  the 
Colonel  ran  it  slowly  up  until  the  locomotive  stood  on 
the  tracks  exactly  where  Buck  Ogilvy  had  been  cutting 
in  his  crossing;  whereupon  the  Colonel  locked  the 
brakes,  opened  his  exhaust,  and  blew  the  boiler  down. 
And  when  the  last  ounce  of  steam  had  escaped,  he 
descended  and  smilingly  accosted  Bryce  Cardigan. 

"That  engine  being  my  property,"  he  announced, 
"I'll  take  the  short  end  of  any  bet  you  care  to  make, 
young  man,  that  it  will  sit  on  those  tracks  until 


330         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

temporary  franchise  expires.  I'd  give  a  good  deal  to 
see  anybody  not  in  my  employ  attempt  to  get  up  steam 
in  that  boiler  until  I  give  the  word.  Cut  in  your  jump- 
crossing  now,  if  you  can,  you  whelp,  and  be  damned  to 
you.  I've  got  you  blocked ! " 

"I  rather  imagine  this  nice  gentleman  has  it  on  us, 
old  dear,"  chirped  Buck  Ogilvy  plaintively.  "Well! 
We  did  our  damndest,  which  angels  can't  do  no  more. 
Let  us  gather  up  our  tools  and  go  home,  my  son,  for 
something  tells  me  that  if  I  hang  around  here  I'll  bust 
one  of  two  things — this  sleek  scoundrel's  gray  head 
or  one  of  my  bellicose  veins!  Hello!  Whom  have 
we  here?" 

Bryce  turned  and  found  himself  facing  Shirley  Sum- 
ner.  Her  tender  lip  was  quivering,  and  the  tears  shone 
in  her  eyes  like  stars.  He  stared  at  her  in  silence. 

"My  friend,"  she  murmured  tremulously,  "didn't  I 
tell  you  I  would  not  permit  you  to  build  the  N  .C.  O.?" 

He  bowed  his  head  in  rage  and  shame  at  his  defeat. 
Buck  Ogilvy  took  him  by  the  arm.  "Tis  midnight's 
holy  hour,'"  he  quoted,  "'and  silence  now  is  brooding 
like  a  gentle  spirit  o'er  a  still  and  pulseless  world/ 
Bryce,  old  chap,  this  is  one  of  those  occasions  where  si 
lence  is  golden.  Speak  not.  I'll  do  it  for  you.  Miss 
Sumner,"  he  continued,  bowing  graciously,  "and 
Colonel  Pennington,"  favouring  that  triumphant  ras 
cal  with  an  equally  gracious  bow,  "we  leave  you  in 
possession  of  the  field — temporarily.  However,  if 
anybody  should  drive  up  in  a  hack  and  lean  out  and 
ask  you,  just  tell  him  Buck  Ogilvy  has  another  trump 
tucked  away  in  his  kimono." 

Bryce  turned  to  go,  but  with  a  sudden  impulse 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         SSI 

Shirley  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm — his  left  arm.  "  Bryce ! " 
she  murmured. 

He  lifted  her  hand  gently  from  his  forearm,  led  her 
to  the  front  of  the  locomotive,  and  held  her  hand  up  to 
the  headlight.  Her  fingers  were  crimson  with  blood. 

"Your  uncle's  killer  did  that,  Shirley,"  lie  said 
ironically.  "It's  only  a  slight  flesh-wound,  but  that 
is  no  fault  of  your  allies.  Good-night." 

And  he  left  her  standing,  pale  of  face  and  trembling, 
in  the  white'  glare  of  the  headlight. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

SHIRLEY  made  no  effort  to  detain  Bryce  Car 
digan  as  he  walked  to  his  car  and  climbed  into 
it.  Ogilvy  remained  merely  long  enough  to 
give  orders  to  the  foreman  to  gather  up  the  tools,  store 
them  in  the  machine-shop  of  Cardigan's  mill,  and  dis 
miss  his  gang;  then  he,  too,  entered  the  automobile,  and 
at  a  word  from  Bryce,  the  car«slid  noiselessly  away  into 
the  darkness.  The  track-cutting  crew  departed  a  few 
minutes  later,  and  when  Shirley  found  herself  alone 
with  her  uncle,  the  tumult  in  her  heart  gave  way  to 
the  tears  she  could  no  longer  repress.  Pennington 
stood  by,  watching  her  curiously,  coldly. 

Presently  Shirley  mastered  her  emotion  and  glanced 
toward  him. 

"Well,  my  dear?"  he  queried  nervously. 

"I — I  think  I  had  better  go  home,"  she  said  without 
spirit. 

"I  think  so,  too,"  he  answered.  "Get  into  the 
Mayor's  flivver,  my  dear,  and  I'll  drive  you.  And 
perhaps  the  least  said  about  this  affair  the  better,  Shir 
ley.  There  are  many  things  that  you  do  not  under 
stand  and  which  cannot  be  elucidated  by  discussion." 

"I  can  understand  an  attempt  at  assassination, 
Uncle  Seth." 

"That  blackguard  Minorca!  I  should  have  known 
better  than  to  put  him  on  such  a  job.  I  told  him  to 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         333 

bluff  and  threaten;  Cardigan,  I  knew,  would  realize 
the  grudge  the  Black  Minorca  has  against  him,  and 
for  that  reason  I  figured  the  greaser  was  the  only  man 
who  could  bluff  him.  While  I  gave  him  orders  to  shoot, 
I  told  him  distinctly  not  to  hit  anybody.  Good  Lord, 
Shirley,  surely  you  do  not  think  I  would  wink  at  a 
murder!" 

"I  do,"  she  answered  passionately.  '"'With  Bryce 
Cardigan  out  of  the  way,  you  would  have  a  clear  field 
before  you " 

"Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear!  Surely  you  do  not  realize 
what  you  are  saying.  You  are  beside  yourself,  Shirley. 
Please — please  do  not  wound  me  so — so  horribly.  You 
do  not — you  cannot  realize  what  a  desperate  fight  I 
have  been  putting  up  for  both  our  sakes.  I  am  sur 
rounded  by  enemies — the  most  implacable  enemies. 
They  force  me  to  fight  the  devil  with  fire — and  here 
you  are,  giving  them  aid  and  comfort." 

"I  want  you  to  defeat  Bryce  Cardigan,  if  you  can  do 
it  fairly." 

"At  another  time  and  in  a  calmer  mood  we  will  dis 
cuss  that  villain,"  he  said  authoritatively.  "If  we 
argue  the  matter  now,  we  are  liable  to  misunderstand 
ings;  we  may  quarrel,  and  that  is  something  neither  of 
us  can  afford.  Get  into  the  car,  and  we  will  go  home. 
There  is  nothing  more  to  be  done  to-night." 

"Your  sophistry  does  not  alter  my  opinion,"  she 
replied  firmly.  "However,  as  you  say,  this  is  neither 
the  time  nor  the  place  to  discuss  it." 

They  drove  home  in  silence.  Shirley  went  at  once  to 
?!  ?r  room.  For  the  Colonel,  however,  the  night's  work 
i  1  scarcely  begun.  The  instant  he  heard  the  door  to 


334         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

his  niece's  room  shut,  he  went  to  the  telephone  and 
called  up  the  Laguna  Grande  roundhouse.  Sexton,  his 
manager,  answered. 

"Have  you  sent  the  switch-engine  to  the  woods  for 
Rondeau  and  his  men?" 

"Just  left." 

"Good!  Now,  then,  Sexton,  listen  to  me:  As  you 
know,  this  raid  of  Cardigan's  has  developed  so  suddenly 
I  am  more  or  less  taken  by  surprise  and  have  had  no 
time  to  prepare  the  k'nd  of  counter-attack  that  will  be 
most  effective.  However,  with  the  crossing  blocked,  I 
gain  time  in  which  to  organize — only  there  must  be  no 
weak  point  in  my  organization.  In  order  to  insure  that, 
I  am  proceeding  to  San  Francisco  to-night  by  rnotoi, 
via  the  coast  road.  I  will  arrive  late  to-morrow  night, 
and  early  Saturday  morning  I  will  appear  in  the  United 
States  District  Court  with  our  attorneys  and  file  a 
complaint  and  petition  for  an  order  temporarily  re 
straining  the  N.  C.  O.  from  cutting  our  tracks. 

"  I  will  have  to  make  an  affidavit  to  support  the  com 
plaint,  so  I  had  better  be  Johnny-on-the-spot  to  do  it, 
rather  than  risk  the  delay  of  making  the  affidavit  to 
morrow  morning  here  and  forwarding  it  by  mail  to 
our  attorneys.  The  judge  will  sign  a  restraining  order, 
returnable  in  from  ten  to  thirty  days — I'll  try  for 
thirty,  because  that  will  knock  out  the  N.  C.  O.'s 
temporary  franchise — and  after  I  have  obtained  the 
restraining  order,  I  will  have  the  United  States  marshal 
telegraph  it  to  Ogilvy  and  Cardigan!" 

"Bully!"  cried  Sexton  heartily.  "That  will  fix 
their  clock." 

"In  the  meantime,"  Pennington  continued,  "logs 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         335 

will  be  glutting  our  landings.  We  need  that  locomo 
tive  for  its  legitimate  purposes.  Take  all  that  dis 
carded  machinery  and  the  old  boiler  we  removed  from 
the  mill  last  fall,  dump  it  on  the  tracks  at  the  crossing, 
and  get  the  locomotive  back  on  its  run.  Understand? 
The  other  side,  having  no  means  of  removing  these 
heavy  obstructions,  will  be  blocked  until  I  return;  by 
that  time  the  matter  will  be  in  the  District  Court, 
Cardigan  will  be  hung  up  until  his  temporary  franchise 
expires — and  the  city  council  will  not  renew  it.  Get 
me?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I'll  be  back  Sunday  forenoon.  Good-bye." 
He  hung  up,  went  to  his  chauffeur's  quarters  over  the 
garage,  and  routed  the  man  out  of  bed.  Then  he  re* 
turned  quietly  to  his  room,  dressed  and  packed  a  bag  for 
his  journey,  left  a  brief  note  for  Shirley  notifying  her 
of  his  departure,  and  started  on  his  two-hundred-and- 
fifty  mile  trip  over  the  mountains  to  the  south.  As 
his  car  sped  through  sleeping  Sequoia  and  gained  the 
open  country,  the  Colonel's  heart  thrilled  pleasurably. 
He  held  cards  and  spades,  big  and  little  casino,  four  aces 
and  the  joker;  therefore  he  knew  he  could  sweep  the 
board  at  his  pleasure.  And  during  his  absence  Shirley 
would  have  opportunity  to  cool  off,  while  he  would  find 
time  to  formulate  an  argument  to  lull  her  suspicions 
II  his  return. 


CHAPTER  XXXm 

OTJITE  oblivious  of  her  uncle's  departure  for  San 
Francisco,  Shirley  lay  awake  throughout  the 
remainder  of  the  night5  turning  over  and  over 
in  her  mind  the  various  aspects  of  the  Cardigan  Fen- 
nington  imbroglio „  Of  one  thing  she  was  quite  cer 
tain;  peace  must  be  declared  at  all  hazards.  She  had 
been  obsessed  of  a  desire,  rather  unusual  in  her  sex, 
to  see  a  fight  worth  while;  she  had  planned  to  permit 
it  to  go  to  a  knockout,  to  use  Bryce  Cardigan's  lan 
guage,  because  she  believed  Bryce  Cardigan  would  be 
vanquished — and  she  had  desired  to  see  him  smashed — - 
but  not  beyond  repair,  for  her  joy  in  the  conflict  was 
to  lie  in  the  task  of  putting  the  pieces  together  after 
ward!  She  realized  now,  however,  that  she  had  per 
mitted  matters  to  go  too  far.  A  revulsion  of  feeling 
toward  her  uncle,  induced  by  the  memory  of  Bryce 
Cardigan's  blood  on  her  white  finger-tips,  con 
vinced  the  girl  that,  at  all  hazards  to  her  financial 
future,  henceforth  she  and  her  uncle  must  tread 
separate  paths.  She  had  found  him  out  at  last,  and 
because  in  her  nature  there  was  some  of  his  own  fix 
ity  of  purpose,  the  resolution  cost  her  no  particular 
pang. 

It  was  rather  a  relief,  therefore,  when  the  imper 
turbable  James  handed  her  at  breakfast  the  following 
note: 

tft 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         337 

SHIRLEY,  DEAR: 

After  leaving  you  last  night,  I  decided  that  in  your  present  frame 
of  mind  my  absence  for  a  few  days  might  tend  to  a  calmer  and 
clearer  perception,  on  your  part,  of  the  necessary  tactics  which  in  a 
moment  of  desperation,  I  saw  fit,  with  regret,  to  pursue  last  night. 
And  in  the  hope  that  you  will  hars  attained  your  old  attitude  toward 
me  before  my  return,  I  am  leaving  in  the  motor  for  San  Francisco. 
Your  terrible  accusation  has  grieved  me  to  such  an  extent  that  I  do 
not  feel  equal  to  the  task  of  confronting  you  until,  in  a  more  judicial 
trame  of  mind,  you  can  truly  absolve  me  of  the  charge  of  wishing 
to  do  away  with  young  Cardigan. 

Your  affectionate 

UNCLE  SETH. 

Shirley's  lip  curled.  With  a  rarer,  keener  intuition 
than  she  had  hitherto  manifested,  she  sensed  the  hy 
pocrisy  between  the  lines;  she  was  not  deceived. 

"He  has  gone  to  San  Francisco  for  more  ammuni 
tion,"  she  soliloquized.  "Very  well,  Unkie-dunk! 
While  you're  away,  I  shall  manufacture  a  few  bombs 
myself." 

After  breakfast  she  left  the  house  and  walked  to 
the  intersection  of  B  with  Water  Street.  Jules  Ron 
deau  and  his  crew  of  lumberjacks  were  there,  and  with 
two  policemen  guarded  the  crossing. 

Rondeau  glanced  at  Shirley,  surprised,  then  lifted  his 
hat.  Shirley  looked  from  the  woods  bully  to  the  loco 
motive  and  back  to  Rondeau. 

"Rondeau,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Cardigan  is  a  bad  man 
to  fight.  You  fought  him  once.  Are  you  going  to 
do  it  again?" 

He  nodded. 

"By  whose  orders?" 

>4Mr.  Sexton,  she  tell  me  to  do  it," 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"Well,  Rondeau,  some  day  I'll  be  boss  of  Laguna 
Grande  and  there'll  be  no  more  fighting,"  she  replied, 
and  passed  on  down  B  Street  to  the  office  of  the  Cardi 
gan  Redwood  Lumber  Company.  Moira  McTavi'sh 
looked  up  as  she  entered. 

"Where  is  he,  dear?"  Shirley  asked.  "I  must  see 
him." 

"In  that  office,  Miss  Shirley,"  Moira  replied,  and 
pointed  to  the  door.  Shirley  stepped  to  the  door, 
knocked,  and  then  entered.  Bryce  Cardigan,  seated 
at  his  desk,  looked  up  as  she  came  in.  His  left  arm 
was  In  a  sling,  and  he  looked  harassed  and  dejected. 

"Don't  get  up?  Bryce,''  she  said  as  he  attempted  to 
rise.  "I  know  you're  quite  exhausted.  You  look  it." 
She  sat  down.  "I'm  so  sorry/*  she  said  softly. 

His  dull  glance  brightened.  "It  doesn't  amount  tr 
that,  Shirley."  And  he  snapped  his  fingers.  sc  It  throbs 
a  little  and  it's  stiff  and  sore,  so  I  carry  it  in  the  sling. 
That  helps  a  little.  What  did  you  want  to  see  me 
about?" 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you,"  said  Shirley,  "that— that  last 
night's  affair  was  not  of  my  making/5  He  smiled  com 
passionately.  "I — I  couldn't  bear  to  have  you  think 
I'd  break  my  word  and  tell  him/5 

"It  never  occurred  to  me  that  you  had  dealt  me  a 
hand  from  the  bottom  of  the  deck,  Shirley,  Please 
don't  worry  about  it.  Your  uncle  has  had  two  piivate 
detectives  watching  Ogilvy  and  me/' 

"Oh!"  she  breathed,  much  relieved.  A  ghost  of  the 
old  buntering  smile  lighted  her  winsome  features. 
"Well,  then,"  she  challenged,  "I  suppose  you  don't  hate 


me." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"On  the  contrary,  I  love  you,"  he  answered.  " How 
ever,  since  you  must  have  known  this  for  some  time 
past,  I  suppose  it  is  superfluous  to  mention  it.  More 
over,  I  haven't  the  right — yet." 

She  had  cast  her  eyes  down  modestly.  She  raised 
them  now  and  looked  at  him  searchingly.  "I  suppose 
you'll  acknowledge  yourself  whipped  at  last,  Bryce?" 
she  ventured. 

"Would  it  please  you  to  have  me  surrender?"  He 
was  very  serious. 

"Indeed  it  would,  Bryce." 

"Why?" 

"Because  I'm  tired  of  fighting.  I  want  peace. 
I'm — I'm  afraid  to  let  this  matter  go  any  further. 
I'm  truly  afraid." 

"I  think  I  want  peace,  too,"  he  answered  wearily. 
"  I'd  be  glad  to  quit — with  honour.  And  I'll  do  it,  too, 
if  you  can  induce  your  uncle  to  give  me  the  kind  of  log 
ging  contract  I  want  with  his  road." 

"  I  couldn't  do  that,  Bryce.  He  has  you  whipped— 
and  he  is  not  merciful  to  the  fallen.  You'll  have 
to — surrender  unconditionally."  Again  she  laid  her 
little  hand  timidly  on  his  wounded  forearm.  "Please 
give  up,  Bryce — for  my  sake.  If  you  persist,  some 
body  will  get  killed." 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to,"  he  murmured  sadly. 
"I  dare  say  you're  right,  though  one  should  never 
admit  defeat  until  he  is  counted  out.  I  suppose,"  he 
continued  bitterly,  "your  uncle  is  in  high  feather  this 
morning." 

"I  don't  know,  Bryce.  He  left  in  his  motor  for 
San  Francisco  about  one  o'clock  this  morning." 


340         TKE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

For  an  instant  Bryce  Cardigan  stared  at  her;  then 
a  slow,  mocking  little  smile  crept  around  the  corners 
of  his  mouth,  and  his  eyes  lighted  with  mirth. 

"Glorious  news,  my  dear  Shirley,  perfectly  glorious! 
So  the  old  fox  has  gone  to  San  Francisco,  eh?  Left  in  a 
hurry  and  via  the  overland  route!  Couldn't  wait  for 
the  regular  passenger-steamer  to-morrow,  eh?  Great 
jumping  Jehoshaphat!  He  must  have  had  important 
business  to  attend  to."  And  Bryce  commenced  to 
chuckle.  "Oh,  the  poor  old  Colonel,"  he  continued 
presently,  "the  dear  old  pirate!  What  a  horrible  right 
swing  he's  running  into!  And  you  want  me  to  ac 
knowledge  defeat!  My  dear  girl,  in  the  language  of  the 
classic,  there  is  nothing  doin^.  I  shall  put  in  my  cross 
ing  Sunday  morning,  and  if  you  don't  believe  it,  drop 
around  and  see  me  in  action." 

"You  mustn't  try,"  protested  Shirley.  "Rondeau 
is  there  with  his  crew — and  he  has  orders  to  stop  you. 
Besides,  you  can't  expect  help  from  the  police.  Uncle 
Seth  has  made  a  deal  with  the  Mayor,"  Shirley  pleaded 
frantically. 

"That  for  the  police  and  that  venal  Mayor  Pound- 
stone!"  Bryce  retorted,  with  another  snap  of  his 
fingers.  "I'll  rid  the  city  of  them  at  the  fall  election." 

"I  came  prepared  to  suggest  a  compromise,  Bryce," 
she  declared,  but  he  interrupted  her  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand. 

"You  can't  effect  a  compromise.  You've  been 
telling  me  I  shall  never  build  the  N.  C.  O.  because  you 
will  not  permit  me  to.  You're  powerless,  I  tell  you. 
I  shall  build  it." 

"You  shan't!"  she  fired  back  at  him,  and  a  spot  of 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         341 

anger  glowed  in  each  cheek.  "You're  the  most  stub 
born  and  belligerent  man  I  have  ever  known.  Some 
times  I  almost  hate  you." 

"Come  around  at  ten  to-morrow  morning  and  watch 
me  put  in  the  crossing — watch  me  give  Rondeau  and  his 
gang  the  run."  He  reached  over  suddenly,  lifted  her 
hand,  and  kissed  it.  "How  I  love  you,  dear  little 
antagonist ! "  he  murmured. 

"If  you  loved  me,  you  wouldn't  oppose  me,"  she 
protested  softly.  "I  tell  you  again,  Bryee,  you  make 
it  very  hard  for  me  to  be  friendly  with  you." 
'  "I  don't  want  to  be  friendly  with  you.  You're 
driving  me  crazy,  Shirley.  Please  run  along  home,  or 
wherever  you're  bound.  I've  tried  to  understand 
your  peculiar  code,  but  you're  too  deep  for  me;  so  let 
me  go  my  way  to  the  devil.  George  Sea  Otter  is  out 
side  asleep  in  the  tonneau  of  the  car.  Tell  him  to 
drive  you  wherever  you're  going.  I  suppose  you're 
afoot  to-day,  for  I  noticed  the  Mayor  riding  to  his 
office  in  your  sedan  this  morning." 

She  tried  to  look  outraged,  but  for  the  life  of  her  she 
could  not  take  offense  at  his  bluntness;  neither  did  she 
resent  a  look  which  she  detected  in  his  eyes,  even  though 
it  told  her  he  was  laughing  at  her. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  she  replied  with  what  dignity  she 
could  tauster.  "  Have  it  your  own  way.  I've  tried  to 
warn  you.  Thank  you  for  your  offer  of  the  car.  I 
shall  be  glad  to  use  it.  Uncle  Seth  sold  my  car  to 
Mayor  Poundstone  last  night.  Mrs.  P.  admired  it 
so!" 

"Ah!  Then  it  was  that  rascally  Poundstone  who 
told  your  uncle  about  the  temporary  franchise,  thus 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

arousing  his  suspicions  to  such  an  extent  that  when  he 
heard  his  locomotive  rumbling  into  town,  he  smelled  a 
rat  and  hurried  down  to  the  crossing?  " 

"Possibly.  The  Poundstones  dined  at  our  house 
last  night." 

"Pretty  hard  on  you,  I  should  say.  But  then  I 
suppose  you  have  to  play  the  game  with  Uncle  Seth. 
Well,  good  morning,  Shirley.  Sorry  to  hurry  you  away, 
but  you  must  remember  we're  on  a  strictly  business 
basis — yet;  and  you  mustn't  waste  my  time." 

"You're  horrid,  Bryce  Cardigan." 

"You're  adorable.     Good  morning." 

"You'll  be  sorry  for  this,"  she  warned  him,  "Good 
morning."  She  passed  out  into  the  general  office, 
visited  with  Moira  about  five  minutes,  and  drove  away 
in  the  Napier.  Bryce  watched  her  through  the  window. 
She  knew  he  was  watching  her,  but  nevertheless  she 
could  not  forbear  turning  round  to  verify  her  sus 
picions.  When  she  did,  he  waved  his  sound  arm  at  her, 
and  she  flushed  with  vexation. 

"God  bless  her!"  he  murmured.  "She's  been  my 
ally  all  along,  and  I  never  suspected  it!  I  wonder  what 
her  game  can  be." 

He  sat  musing  for  a  lonsr  time.  "Yes,"  he  con 
cluded  presently,  "old  PoiiDastone  has  double-crossed 
us — and  Peimington  mad?  it  worth  his  while.  And 
the  Colonel  sold  the  Mayor  his  niece's  automobile* 
It's  worth  twenty-five  hundred  dollars,  at  least,  and 
since  old  Pound  stone's  finances  will  not  permit  such 
an  extravagance,  I'm  wondering  how  Pennington  ex 
pects  him  to  pay  for  it.  I  smell  a  rat  as  big  as  a 
kangaroo.  In  this  case  two  and  two  don't  make  four. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

They  make  six!  Guess  I'll  build  a  fire  under  old 
Poundstone." 

He  took  down  the  telephone-receiver  and  called  up 
the  Mayor.  "Bryce  Cardigan  speaking,  Mr.  Pound- 
stone,"  he  greeted  the  chief  executive  of  Sequoia. 

"Oh,  hello,  Bryce,  my  boy,"  Poundstone  boomed 
affably.  " How's  tricks?  " 

"So-so!  I  hear  you've  bought  that  sedan  from 
Colonel  Pennington's  niece.  Wish  I'd  known  it  was 
for  sale.  I'd  have  outbid  you.  Want  to  make  a 
profit  on  your  bargain?  " 

"No,  not  this  morning,  Bryce.  I  think  we'll  keep 
it.  Mrs.  P.  has  been  wanting  a  closed  car  for  a  long 
time,  and  when  the  Colonel  offered  me  this  one  at  a 
bargain,  I  snapped  it  up.  Couldn't  afford  a  new 
one,  you  know,  but  then  this  one's  just  as  good  as 


new." 


"And  you  don't  care  to  get  rid  of  it  at  a  profit?" 
Bryce  repeated. 

<fNo,sirree!" 

"Oh,  you're  mistaken,  Mr.  Mayor.  I  think  you  do. 
I  would  suggest  that  you  take  that  car  back  to  Penning 
ton's  garage  and  leave  it  there.  That  would  be  the 
most  profitable  thing  you  could  do." 

"Wha — what— what  in  blue  blazes  are  you  driving 
at?  "  the  Mayor  sputtered. 

"I  wouldn't  care  to  discuss  it  over  the  telephone.  I 
take  it,  however,  that  a  hint  to  the  wise  is  sufficient; 
and  1  warn  you,  Mayor,  that  if  you  keep  that  car  it 
will  bring  you  bad  luck.  To-day  is  Friday,  and  Fri* 
day  is  an  unlucky  day.  I'd  get  rid  of  that  sedan  before, 
noon  if  I  were  you," 


344         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

There  was  a  long,  fateful  silence.  Then  in  a  singu 
larly  small,  quavering  voice:  "You  think  it  best, 
Cardigan?" 

"  I  do.  Return  it  to  No.  38  Redwood  Boulevard,  and 
no  questions  will  be  asked .  Good-bye ! " 

When  Shirley  reached  home  at  noon,  she  found  her 
car  parked  in  front  of  the  porte  cochere;  and  a  brief 
note,  left  with  the  butler,  informed  her  that  after  think 
ing  the  matter  over,  Mrs.  Poundstone  had  decided  the 
Poundstone  family  could  not  afford  such  an  extrava 
gance,  and  accordingly  the  car  was  returned  with  manv 
thanks  for  the  opportunity  to  purchase  it  at  such  a 
ridiculously  low  figure.  Shirley  smiled,  and  put  the 
car  up  in  the  garage.  When  she  returned  to  the  house 
her  maid  Thelma  informed  her  that  Mr.  Bryce  Cardi 
gan  had  been  calling  her  on  the  telephone.  So  she 
called  Bryce  up  at  once. 

"Has  Poundstone  returned  your  car? "  he  queried. 

"  \Yhy ,  yes.     WThat  makes  you  ask ?  " 

"Oh,  I  had  a  suspicion  he  might.  You  see,  I  called 
him  up  and  suggested  it;  somehow  His  Honour  is  pe 
culiarly  susceptible  to  suggestions  from  me,  and " 

"Bryce  Cardigan,"  she  declared,  "you're  a  sly 
rascal — that's  what  you  are.  I  shan't  tell  you  another 
thing." 

"I  hope  you  had  a  stenographer  at  the  dictograph 
when  the  Mayor  and  your  uncle  cooked  up  their  little 
deal,"  he  continued.  "That  was  thoughtful  of  you, 
Shirley.  It  was  a  bully  club  to  have  up  your  sleeve  at 
the  final  show-down,  for  with  it  you  can  make  Unkie- 
dunk  behave  himself  and  force  that  compromise  you 
spoke  of.  Seriously,  however,  I  don't  want  you  to  use 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         343 

it,  Shirley.  We  must  avoid  a  scandal  by  all  means; 
and  praise  be,  I  don't  need  your  club  to  beat  your 
uncle's  brains  out.  I'm  taking  his  club  away  from  him 
to  use  for  that  purpose." 

"Really,  I  believe  you're  happy  to-day." 

"Happy?  I  should  tell  a  man!  If  the  streets  of 
Sequoia  were  paved  with  eggs,  I  could  walk  them  all 
day  without  making  an  omelette." 

"It  must  be  nice  to  feel  so  happy,  after  so  many 
months  of  the  blues." 

"Indeed  it  is,  Shirley.  You  see  until  very  recently  I 
was  very  much  worried  as  to  your  attitude  toward  me. 
I  couldn't  believe  you'd  so  far  forget  yourself  as  to  love 
me  in  spite  of  everything — so  I  never  took  the  trouble 
to  ask  you.  And  now  I  don't  have  to  ask  you.  I 
know!  And  I'll  be  around  to  see  you  after  I  get  that 
crossing  in!" 

"You're  perfectly  horrid,"  she  blazed,  and  hung  up 
without  the  formality  of  saying  good-bye. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

SHORTLY  after  Shirley's  departure  from  his  office, 
Bryce  had  a  visit  from  Buck  Ogilvy.  The  latter 
Vv  ore  a  neatly  pressed  suit  of  Shepherd  plaid,  with 
a  white  carnation  in  his  lapel,  and  he  was,  apparently, 
the  most  light-hearted  young  man  in  Humboldt  County. 
He  struck  an  attitude  and  demanded : 

"Boss,  what  do  you  think  of  my  new  suit? " 

"You  lunatic!  Don't  you  know  red  blonds  should 
never  wear  light  shades?  You're  dressed  like  a  Negro 
minstrel." 

"Well,  I  feel  as  happy  as  an  end-man.  And  by  the 
way,  you're  all  chirked  up  yourself.  Who's  been 
helping  you  to  the  elixir  of  life.  When  we  parted  last 
night,  you  were  forty  fathoms  deep  in  the  slough  of 
despond." 

"No  less  a  divinity  than  Miss  Shirley  Sumner!  She 
called  this  morning  to  explain  that  last  night's  fiasco 
was  none  of  her  making,  and  quite  innocently  she  im^ 
parted  the  information  that  old  Pennington  lighted  out 
for  San  Francisco  at  one  o'clock  this  morning.  Where 
fore  I  laugh.  Te-he!  Ha-hah!" 

"Three  long,  loud  raucous  cheers  for  Uncle.  He's 
gone  to  rush  a  restraining  order  through  the  United 
States  District  Court.  Wonder  why  he  didn't  wire  his 
attorneys  to  attend  to  the  matter  for  him." 

"He  has  the  crossing  blocked,  and  inasmuch  as  the 

Mfc 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         347 

Mayor  feeds  out  of  Pennington's  hand,  the  Colonel'  is 
quite  confident  that  said  crossing  will  remain  blocked, 
As  for  the  restraining  order — well,  if  one  wants  a  thing 
well  done,  one  should  do  it  oneself." 

"All  that  doesn't  explain  your  cheerful  attitude, 
though." 

"  Oh,  but  it  does.  I've  told  you  about  old  Dun 
can  McTavish,  Moira's  father,  haven't  I?"  Ogilvy 
nodded,  and  Bryce  continued:  "When  I  fired  the  old 
scoundrel  for  boozing,  it  almost  broke  his  heart ;  he  had 
to  leave  Humboldt,  where  everybody  knew  him,  so  he 
wandered  down  into  Mendocino  County  and  got  a  job 
sticking  lumber  in  the  drying-yard  of  the  Willits 
Lumber  Company.  He's  been  there  two  months  now, 
and  I  am  informed  by  his  employer  that  old  Mac  hasn't 
taken  a  drink  in  all  that  time.  And  what's  more,  he 
isn't  going  to  take  one  again." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"Because  I  make  it  my  business  to  find  out.  Mac 
was  the  finest  woods-boss  this  county  ever  knew;  hence 
you  do  not  assume  that  I  would  lose  the  old  scoundrel 
without  making  a  fight  for  him,  do  you?  Why,  Buck, 
he's  been  on  the  Cardigan  pay-roll  thirty  years,  and  I 
only  fired  him  in  order  to  reform  him.  Well,  last  week 
I  sent  one  of  Mac's  old  friends  down  to  Willits  pur 
posely  to  call  on  him  and  invite  him  out  'for  a  time'; 
but  Mac  wouldn't  drink  with  him.  No,  sir,  he  couldn't 
be  tempted.  On  the  contrary,  he  told  the  tempter 
that  I  had  promised  to  give  him  back  his  job  if  he  re 
mained  on  the  water  wagon  for  one  year;  he  was  re 
solved  to  win  back  his  job  and  his  self-respect." 

"I  know  what  your  plan  is,"  Ogilvy  interrupted. 


348         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

"You're  going  to  ask  Duncan  McTavish  to  waylay 
Pennington  on  the  road  at  some  point  where  it  runs 
through  the  timber,  kidnap  him,  and  hold  him  until 
we  have  had  time  to  clear  the  crossing  and  cut  Pen 
nington 's  tracks. 

"We  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  Buck  continued 
seriously.  "Listen,  now,  to  Father's  words  of  wisdom. 
This  railroad-game  is  an  old  one  to  me;  I've  fought  at 
crossings  before  now,  and  whether  successful  or  de 
feated,  I  have  always  learned  something  in  battle. 
Didn't  you  hear  me  tell  that  girl  and  her  villainous 
avuncular  relative  last  night  that  I  had  another  ace 
up  rr.y  kimono?" 

Bryce  nodded. 

"That  was  not  brag,  old  dear.  I  had  the  ace,  and 
this  morning  I  played  it — wherefore  in  my  heart  there 
is  that  peace  that  passeth  understanding — particularly 
since  I  have  just  had  a  telegram  informing  me  that  my 
.ace  took  the  odd  trick." 

He  opened  a  drawer  in  Bryce's  desk  and  reached  for 
the  cigars  he  knew  were  there. 

"Not  at  all  a  bad  cigar  for  ten  cents.  However — 
you  will  recall  that  from  the  very  instant  we  decided 
to  cut,  in  that  jump-crossing,  we  commenced  to  plan 
against  interference  by  Pennington;  in  consequence 
we  kept,  or  tried  to  keep,  our  decision  a  secret.  How 
ever,  there  existed  at  all  times  the  possibility  that 
Pennington  might  discover  our  benevolent  intentions 
and  block  us  with  his  only  weapon — a  restraining  order 
1  by  the  judge  of  the  United  States  District  Court. 
r.  on^  of  the  most  delightful  things  I  know  about 
bat  it  is  open  to  all  men  seeking  justice — or 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         349 

injustice  disguised  as  justice.  Also  there  is  a  wise 
old  saw  to  the  effect  that  battles  are  won  by  the  fellow 
who  gets  there  first  with  the  most  men.  The  situation 
from  the  start  was  absurdly  simple.  If  Pennington 
got  to  the  District  Court  first,  we  were  lost!" 

"You  mean  you  got  there  first?"  exclaimed  Bryce. 

"I  did — by  the  very  simple  method  of  preparing  to 
get  there  first  in  case  anything  slipped.  Something 
did  slip — last  night!  However,  I  was  ready;  so  all  I 
had  to  do  was  press  the  button,  for  as  Omar  Khayyam 
remarked:  'What  shall  it  avail  a  man  if  he  buyeth  a 
padlock  for  his  stable  after  his  favourite  stallion  hath 
been  lifted?'  Several  days  ago,  my  boy,  I  wrote  a  long 
letter  to  our  attorney  in  San  Francisco  explaining 
every  detail  of  our  predicament;  the  instant  I  received 
that  temporary  franchise  from  the  city  council,  I  mailed 
a  certified  copy  of  it  to  our  attorney  also.  Then,  in  an 
ticipation  of  our  discovery  by  Pennington,  I  instructed 
the  attorney  to  prepare  the  complaint  and  petition  for  a 
restraining  order  against  Seth  Pennington  ei  al.  and 
stand  by  to  rush  the  judge  with  it  the  instant  he  heard 
from  me! 

"Well,  about  the  time  old  Pennington  started  for 
San  Francisco  this  morning,  I  had  our  attorney  out 
of  bed  and  on  the  long-distance  telephone;  at  nine 
o'clock  this  morning  he  appeared  in  the  United  States 
District  Court;  at  nine-fifteen  the  judge  signed  a  re 
straining  order  forbidding  our  enemies  to  interfere 
with  us  in  the  exercise  of  a  right  legally  granted  us  by 
the  city  of  Sequoia,  and  at  nine-thirty  a  deputy  United 
States  marshal  started  in  an  automobile  for  Sequoia, 
via  the  overland  route.  He  will  arrive  late  to-morrow 


350         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

night,  and  on  Sunday  we  will  get  that  locomotive  out 
of  our  way  and  install  our  crossing." 

"And  Pennington " 

"Ah,  the  poor  Pennington!  Mon  pauvre  Seth!" 
Buck  sighed  comically.  "He  will  be  just  twenty-four 
hours  late." 

"  You  old  he-fox ! "  Bryce  murmured.  "  You  wicked, 
wicked  man!" 

Buck  Ogilvy  lifted  his  lapel  and  sniffed  luxuriously 
at  his  white  carnation,  the  while  a  thin  little  smile 
played  around  the  corners  of  his  humorous  mouth. 
"All,"  he  murmured  presently,  "life's  pretty  sweet,  isn't 
it!" 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

EVENTS  followed  each  other  with  refreshing 
rapidity.  While  the  crew  of  the  big  locomo 
tive  on  the  crossing  busied  themselves  getting 
up  steam,  Sexton  and  Jules  Rondeau  toiled  at  the  load 
ing  of  the  discarded  boiler  and  heavy  castings  aboard 
two  flat-cars.  By  utilizing  the  steel  derrick  on  the  com 
pany's  wrecking-car,  this  task  was  completed  by  noon, 
and  after  luncheon  the  mogul  backed  up  the  main  line 
past  the  switch  into  the  Laguna  Grande  yards;  where 
upon  the  switch-engine  kicked  the  two  flat-cars  and 
the  wrecking-car  out  of  the  yard  and  down  to  the 
crossing,  where  the  obstructions  were  promptly  un 
loaded.  The  police  watched  the  operation  with  alert 
interest  but  forebore  to  interfere  in  this  high-handed 
closing  of  a  public  thoroughfare. 

To  Sexton's  annoyance  and  secret  apprehension, 
Bryce  Cardigan  and  Buck  Ogilvy  promptly  appeared 
on  the  scene,  both  very  cheerful  and  lavish  with  expert 
advice  as  to  the  best  method  of  expediting  the  job  in 
hand.  To  Bryce's  surprise  Jules  Rondeau  appeared 
to  take  secret  enjoyment  of  this  good-natured  chaffing 
of  the  Laguna  Grande  manager.  Occasionally  he  eyed 
Bryce  curiously  but  without  animus,  and  presently 
he  flashed  the' latter  a  lightning  wink,  as  if  to  say: 
"What  a  fool  Sexton  is  to  oppose  you!" 

"Well,    Rondeau,"    Bryce    hailed    the    woods-boss 

351 


352         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

cheerfully,  "I  see  you  have  quite  recovered  from  that 
working  over  I  gave  you  some  time  ago.  No  hard 
feelings,  I  trust.  I  shouldn't  care  to  have  that  job 
to  do  over  again.  You're  a  tough  one." 

"By  gar,  she  don'  pay  for  have  hard  feelings  wiz 
you,  M'sieur,"  Rondeau  answered  bluntly.  "We  have 
one  fine  fight,  but" — he  shrugged — "I  don'  want  some 


more." 


"Yes,  by  gar,  an'  she  don'  pay  for  cut  other  people's 
trees,  M'sieur,"  Bryce  mimicked  him.  "I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  I  took  the  value  of  that  tree  out  of  your 
hide." 

"1  t'enk  so,  M'sieur."  He  approached  Bryce  and 
lowered  his  voice.  "For  one  month  I  am  no  good  all 
ze  tarn.  We  don'  fight  some  more,  M'sieur.  And  I 
have  feel  ashanie'  for  dose  Black  Minorca  feller.  Al 
ways  wiz  him  eet  is  ze  knife  or  ze  club — and  now  eet  is 
ze  rifle.  Cockon  !  Wen  I  fight,  I  fight  wiz  whafc\0 
bon  Dieu  give  me." 

"You  appear  to  have  a  certain  code,  after  all," 
Bryce  laughed.  "I  am  inclined  to  like  you  for  it. 
You're  sporty  in  your  way,  you  tremendous  scoundrel!" 

"Mebbeso,"  Rondeau  suggested  hopefully,  "M'sieur 
likes  me  for  woods-boss?" 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  with  Pennington?  Is  he 
tired  of  you?" 

The  colour  mounted  slowly  to  the  woods  bully's 
swarthy  cheek.  "Mademoiselle  Sumnair,  he's  tell  me 
pretty  soon  he's  goin'  be  boss  of  Laguna  Grande  an'  stop 
all  thees  fight.  An'  w'en  Mademoiselle,  he  is  in  the 
saddle,  good-bye  Jules  Rondeau.  Thees  country — I 
like  him.  I  feel  sad,  M'sieur,  to  leave  dose  beeg  trees." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         353 

He  paused,  looking  rather  wistfully  at  Bryce.  "I  am 
fine  woods-boss  for  somebody,"  he  suggested  hopefully. 

"You  think  Miss  Sumner  dislikes  you  then,  Ron 
deau?" 

"I  don'  theenk.  I  know."  He  sighed;  his  huge 
body  seemed  to  droop.  "I  am  out  of  zee  good  luck 
now,"  he  murmured  bitterly.  "Everybody,  she  hate 
Jules  Rondeau.  Colonel — she  hate  because  I  don' 
keel  M'sieur  Cardigan;  Mademoiselle,  he  hate  because 
I  try  to  keel  M'sieur  Cardigan;  M'sieur  Sexton,  she 
hate  because  I  tell  her  thees  mornin'  she  is  one  fool  for 
fight  M'sieur  Cardigan." 

Again  he  sighed.  "Dose  beeg  trees!  In  Quebec 
we  have  none.  In  zee  woods,  M'sieur,  I  feel — here!" 
And  he  laid  his  great  calloused,  hairy  hand  over  his 
heart.  "Wen  I  cut  your  beeg  trees,  M'sieur,  I  feel 
like  hell." 

•+  "That  infernal  gorilla  of  a  man  is  a  poet,"  Buck 
Ogilvy  declared.  "I'd  think  twice  before  I  let  him 
get  out  of  the  country,  Bryce."  • 

"'Whose  salt  he  eats,  his  song  he  sings,'"  quoth 
Bryce.  "I  forgive  you,  Rondeau,  and  when  I  need  e 
woods-boss  like  you,  I'll  send  for  you," 


CHAPTER  XXXVI      , 

A  ELEVEN  o'clock  Saturday  night  the  deputy 
United  States  marshal  arrived  in  Sequoia. 
Upon  the  advice  of  Buck  Ogilvy,  however, 
he  made  no  attempt  at  service  that  night,  notwith 
standing  the  fact  that  Jules  Rondeau  and  his  bullies 
still  guarded  the  crossing.  At  eight  o'clock  Sunday 
morning,  however,  Bryce  Cardigan  drove  him  down  tvi 
the  crossing.  Buck  Ogilvy  was  already  there  with  hL 
men,  superintending  the  erection  of  a  huge  derrick  close 
to  the  heap  of  obstructions  placed  on  the  crossing. 
Sexton  was  watching  him  uneasily,  and  flushed  as 
Ogilvy  pointed  him  out  to  the  marshal. 

"There's  your  meat,  Marshal,"  he  announced  Tho 
marshal  approached  ,and  extended  toward  Sexton  a 
copy  of  the  restraining  order.  The  latter  struck  it 
aside  and  refused  to  accept  it — whereupon  the  deputy 
marshal  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder  with  it.  "Tag! 
You're  out  of  the  game,  my  friend,"  he  said  pleasantly. 

As  the  document  fluttered  to  Sexton's  feet,  the  latter 
turned  to  Jules  Rondeau.  "I  can  no  longer  take 
charge  here,  Rondeau,"  he  explained .  "  I  am  forbidden 
to  interfere." 

"Jules  Rondeau  can  do  ze  job,"  the  woods-boss  re 
plied  easily.  "Ze  law,  she  have  not  restrain'  me-  I 
guess  mebbeso  you  don'  take  dose  theengs  away,  eh, 
M'sieur  Cardigan.  Myself,  I  lak  see." 


354 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         355 

The  deputy  marshal  handed  Rondeau  a  paper,  at  the 
same  time  showing  his  badge.  "You're  out,  too,  my 
friend,"  he  laughed.  "Don't  be  foolish  and  try  to 
buck  the  law.  If  you  do,  I  shall  have  to  place  a  nice 
little  pan*  of  handcuffs  on  you  and  throw  you  in  jail — 
and  if  you  resist  arrest,  I  shall  have  to  shoot  you.  I 
have  one  of  these  little  restraining  orders  for  every 
able-bodied  man  in  the  Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Com 
pany's  employ — thanks  to  Mr.  Ogilvy's  foresight;  so 
it  is  useless  to  try  to  beat  this  game  on  a  technicality." 

Sexton,  who  stil?  lingered,  made  a  gesture  of  sur 
render.  "Dismiss  your  crew,  Rondeau,"  he  ordered. 
"We're  whipped  to  a  frazzle." 

A  gleam  of  pleasure,  not  unmixed  with  triumph, 
lighted  the  dark  eyes  of  the  French-Canadian.  "I 
tol'  M'sieur  Sexton  she  cannot  fight  M'sieur  Cardigan 
and  win,"  he  said  simply  "Now  inebbe  he  believe 
that  Jules  Rondeau  know  somet'ing." 

"Shut  up,"  Sexton  roared  petulantly.  Rondeau 
shrugged  contemptuously,  turned,  and  with  a  sweep  of 
his  great  arm  indicated  to  his  men  that  they  were  to  go; 
then,  without  a  backward  glance  to  see  that  they  fol 
lowed,  the  woods-boss  strode  away  in  the  direction  of 
the  Laguna  Grande  mill.  Arrived  at  the  mill-office, 
he  entered,  took  down  the  telephone,  and  called  up 
Shirley  Sumner. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "Jules  Rondeau  speaks  to 
you.  I  have  for  you  zee  good  news.  Bryce  Cardigan, 
she  puts  in  the  crossing  to-day.  One  man  of  the  law 
she  comes  from  San  Francisco  with  papers,  and  M'sieur 
Sexton  say  to  me:  'Rondeau,  we  are  whip'.  Deesmess 
your  men.'  So  1  have  dr^szr-^rs  doze  men,  and  now  I 


356         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

deesmess  myself.  Mebbeso  bimeby  I  go  to  work  for 
M'sieur  Cardigan.  For  Mademoiselle  I  have  no  weesh 
to  make  trouble  to  fire  me.  I  queet.  I  will  not  fight 
dose  dirty  fight  some  more.  Au  revoir,  mademoiselle.  I 
go." 

And  without  further  ado  he  hung  up. 

"What's  this,  what's  this?"  Sexton  demanded. 
"You  re  going  to  quit?  Nonsense,  Rondeau,  non 
sense!" 

"I  will  have  my  time,  M'sieur,"  said  Jules  Rondeau. 
"I  go  to  work  for  a  man.  Mebbeso  I  am  not  woods- 
boss  for  heem,  but — I  work." 

"You'll  have  to  wait  until  the  Colonel  returns,  Ron 
deau." 

"I  will  have  my  time,"  said  Jules  Rondeau  pa 
tiently. 

"Then  you'll  wait  till  pay-day  for  it,  Rondeau. 
You  know  our  rules.  Any  man  who  quits  without 
notice  waits  until  the  regular  pay-day  for  his 
money." 

Jules  advanced  until  he  towered  directly  over  the 
manager.  "I  tol'  M'sieur  I  would  have  my  time,"  he 
repeated  once  more.  "Is  M'sieur  deaf  in  zee  ears?" 
He  raised  his  right  hand,  much  as  a  bear  raises  its 
paw;  his  blunt  fingers  worked  a  little  and  there  was  a 
smoldering  fire  in  his  dark  eyes. 

Without  further  protest  Sexton  opened  the  safe, 
counted  out  the  wages  due,  and  took  Rondeau's  re 
ceipt. 

"Thank    you,  M>oi'° — '  woods-boss    growled 

as  h       .  !      "Now  I  work 

for  .},f   *  •  ??£  .  hf>ve  zee  switch- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         357 

engine  weeth  two  flat-cars  and  zee  wrecking-car.  Doze 
dam  trash  on  zee  crossing — M'sieur  Cardigan  does  not 
like,  and  by  gar,  I  take  heem  away.  You  onderstand, 
M'sieur?  I  am  Jules  Rondeau,  and  I  work  for  M'sieur 
Cardigan.  La  la,  M'sieur!"  The  great  hand  closed 
over  Sexton's  collar.  "Not  zee  pistol — no,  not  for 
Jules  Rondeau." 

Quite  as  easily  as  a  woman  dresses  a  baby,  he  gagged 
Sexton  with  Sexton's  own  handkerchief,  laid  him  gently 
on  the  floor  and  departed,  locking  the  door  behind  him 
and  taking  the  key.  At  the  corner  of  the  building, 
where  the  telephone-line  entered  the  office,  he  paused, 
jerked  once  at  the  wire,  and  passed  on,  leaving  the  broken 
ends  on  the  ground. 

In  the  round-house  he  found  the  switch-engine  crew 
on  duty,  waiting  for  steam  in  the  boiler.  The  with 
drawal  of  both  locomotives,  i>rief  as  had  been  their  ab 
sence,  had  caused  a  glut  of  logs  at  the  Laguna  Grande 
landings,  and  Sexton  was  catching  up  with  the  traffic 
by  sending  the  switch-engine  crew  out  for  one  train- 
load,  even  though  it  was  Sunday.  The  crew  had  been 
used  to  receiving  orders  from  Rondeau,  and  moreover 
they  were  not  aware  of  his  recent  action;  hence  at  his 
command  they  ran  the  switch-engine  out  of  the  round 
house,  coupled  up  the  two  flat-cars  and  the  wrecking- 
car,  and  backed  down  to  the  crossing.  Upon  arrival, 
Jules  Rondeau  leaned  out  of  the  cab  window  and  hailed 
Bryce.  "M'sieur,"  he  said,  "do  not  boozer  to  make 
zee  derrick.  I  have  here  zee  wrecking-car — all  you 
need;  pretty  soon  we  lift  him  off  zee  crossing,  I  tell 
you,  eh,  M'sieur  Cardigan?" 

Bryce  stepped  over  to  the  switch-engine  and  looked 


358         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

up  at  his  late  enemy.  "By  whose  orders  is  this  train 
here?"  he  queried. 

"Mine,"  Rondeau  answered.  "M'sieur  Sexton  I 
have  tie  like  one  leetle  pig  and  lock  her  in  her  office. 
I  work  now  for  M'sieur." 

And  he  did.  He  waited  not  for  a  confirmation  from 
his  new  master  but  proceeded  to  direct  operations  like 
the  born  driver  and  leader  of  men  that  he  was.  With 
his  late  employer's  gear  he  fastened  to  the  old  castings 
and  the  boiler,  lifted  them  with  the  derrick  on  the 
wrecking-car,  and  swung  them  up  and  around  onto  the 
flat-cars.  By  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  the  crossing 
was  once  more  clear.  Then  the  Cardigan  crew  fell 
upon  it  while  Jules  Rondeau  ran  the  train  back  to  the 
Laguna  Grande  yards,  dismissed  his  crew,  returned  to 
the  mill-office,  and  released  the  manager. 

"You'll  pay  through  the  nose  for  this,  you  scoundrel/' 
Sexton  whimpered.  "I'll  fix  you,  you  traitor." 

"You  feex  nothing,  M'sieur  Sexton,"  Rondeau  re 
plied  imperturbably.  "Who  is  witness  Jules  Rondeau 
tie  you  up?  Somebody  see  you,  no?  I  guess  you 
don' feex  me.  Sacre!  I  guess  you  don' try." 


CHAPTER   XXXVH 

COLONEL  PENNINGTON'S  discovery  at  San 
Francisco  that  Bryce  Cardigan  had  stolen  his 
thunder  and  turned  the  bolt  upon  him,  was 
the  hardest  blow  Seth  Pennington  could  remember 
having  received  throughout  thirty-odd  years  of  give 
and  take.  He  was  too  old  and  experienced  a  cam 
paigner,  however,  to  permit  a  futile  rage  to  cloud  his 
reason;  he  prided  himself  upon  being  a  foeman  worthy 
of  any  man's  steel. 

On  Tuesday  he  returned  to  Sequoia.  Sexton  re 
lated  to  him  in  detail  the  events  which  had  transpired 
since  his  departure,  but  elicited  nothing  more  than  a 
noncommittal  grunt. 

"There  is  one  more  matter,  sir,  which  will  doubtless 
be  of  interest  to  you,"  Sexton  continued  apologetically. 
"Miss  Sumner  called  me  on  the  telephone  yesterday 
and  instructed  me  formally  to  notify  the  board  of 
directors  of  the  Laguna  Grande  Company  of  a  special 
meeting  of  the  board,  to  be  held  here  at  two  o'clock 
this  afternoon.  In  view  of  the  impossibility  of  com 
municating  with  you  while  you  were  en  route,  I  con 
formed  to  her  wishes.  Our  by-laws,  as  you  know, 
stipulate  that  no  meeting  of  the  board  shall  be  called 
without  formal  written  notice  to  each  director  mailej 
twenty -four  hours  previously." 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean.  Sexton,  by  conform- 

M 


360         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

ing  to  her  wishes?  Miss  Sumner  is  not  a  director  ol 
this  company/'  Pennington 's  voice  was  harsh  and 
trembled  with  apprehension. 

"Miss  Sumner  controls  forty  per  cent,  of  the  Laguna 
Grande  stock,  sir.  I  took  that  into  consideration." 

"You  lie!"  Pennington  all  but  screamed.  "You 
took  into  consideration  your  job  as  secretary  and 
general  manager.  Damnation!" 

He  rose  and  commenced  pacing  up  and  down  his 
office.  Suddenly  he  paused.  Sexton  still  stood  be 
side  his  desk,  watching  him  respectfully.  "You  fool!" 
he  snarled.  "  Get  out  of  here  and  leave  me  alone." 

Sexton  departed  promptly,  glancing  at  his  watch  as 
le  did  so.  It  lacked  five  minutes  of  two.  He  passed 
Shirley  Sumner  in  the  general  office. 

"Shirley,"  Pennington  began  in  a  hoarse  voice  as 
she  entered  his  office,  "what  is  the  meaning  of  this 
directors'  meeting  you  have  requested?" 

"Be  seated,  Uncle  Seth,"  the  girl  answered  quietly. 
"If  you  will  only  be  quiet  and  reasonable,  perhaps  we 
can  dispense  with  this  directors'  meeting  which  appears 
to  frighten  you  so." 

He  sat  down  promptly,  a  look  of  relief  on  his  face. 

"I  scarcely  know  how  to  begin,  Uncle  Seth,"  Shirley 
commenced  sadly.  "It  hurts  me  terribly  to  be  forced 
to  hurt  you,  but  there  doesn't  appear  to  be  any  other 
way  out  of  it.  I  cannot  trust  you  to  manage  my 
financial  affairs  in  the  future — this  for  a  number  of 
reasons,  the  principal  one  being— 

"Young  Cardigan,"  he  interrupted  in  a  low  voice. 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  answered,  "although  I  did  think 
Until  very  recently  that  it  was  those  sixteen  townships 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         361 

of  red  cedar — that  crown  grant  in  British  Columbia  in 
which  you  induced  me  to  invest  four  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  You  will  remember  that  you  purchased  that 
timber  for  me  from  the  Caribou  Timber  Company, 
Limited.  You  said  it  was  an  unparalleled  investment. 
Quite  recently  I  learned — no  matter  how — that  you 
were  the  principal  owner  of  the  Caribou  Timber  Com 
pany,  Limited!  Smart  as  you  are,  somebody  swindled 
you  with  that  red  cedar.  It  was  a  wonderful  stand  of 
timber — so  read  the  cruiser's  report — but  fifty  per 
cent,  of  it,  despite  its  green  and  flourishing  appearance, 
is  hollow-butted !  And  the  remaining  fifty  per  cent,  of 
sound  timber  cannot  be  logged  unless  the  rotten  timber 
is  logged  also  and  gotten  out  of  the  way  also.  And  I 
am  informed  that  logging  it  spells  bankruptcy." 

She  gazed  upon  him  steadily,  but  without  malice; 
his  face  crimsoned  and  then  paled;  presently  his  glance 
sought  the  carpet.  While  he  struggled  to  formulate  a 
verbal  defense  against  her  accusation  Shirley  con 
tinued  :  ( 

"You  had  erected  a  huge  sawmill  and  built  and 
equipped  a  logging-road  before  you  discovered  you 
had  been  swindled.  So,  in  order  to  save  as  much  as 
possible  from  the  wreck,  you  decided  to  unload  your 
white  elephant  on  somebody  else.  I  was  the  readiest 
victim.  You  were  the  executor  of  my  father's  estate — » 
you  were  my  guardian  and  financial  adviser,  and  so 
you  found  it  very,  very  easy  to  swindle  me ! " 

"I  had  my  back  to  the  wall,"  he  quavered.  "I  was 
desperate — and  it  wasn't  at  all  the  bad  investment  you 
have  been  told  it  is.  You  had  the  money — more  money 
than  you  knew  what  to  do  with — and  with  the  proceeds 


362         THE  VALLEY  OP  THE  GIANTS 

of  the  sale  of  those  cedar  lands,  I  knew  I  could  maks 
an  investment  in  Caliiornia  redwood  and  more  than 
retrieve  my  fortunes — make  big  money  for  both  of  us." 

"You  might  have  borrowed  the  money  from  me. 
You  know  I  have  never  hesitated  to  join  in  your  en 
terprises." 

"This  was  too  big  a  deal  for  you,  Shirley.  I  had 
vision.  I  could  see  incalculable  riches  in  this  redwood 
empire,  but  it  was  a  tremendous  gamble  and  required 
twenty  millions  to  swing  it  at  the  very  start.  I  dreamed 
of  the  control  of  California  redwood;  and  if  you  will 
stand  by  me,  Shirley,  I  shall  yet  make  my  dream  come 
true — and  half  of  it  shall  be  yours.  It  has  always  been 
my  intention  to  buy  back  from  you  secretly  and  at  a 
nice  profit  to  you  that  Caribou  red  cedar,  and  with 
the  acquisition  of  the  Cardigan  properties  I  would  have 
been  in  position  to  do  so.  Why,  that  Cardigan  tract 
in  the  San  Hedrin  which  we  will  buy  in  within  a  year 
for  half  a  million  is  worth  five  millions  at  least.  And 
by  that  time,  I  feel  certain — in  fact,  I  know — the 
Northern  Pacific  will  commence  building  in  from  the 
south,  from  Willits." 

She  silenced  him  with  a  disdainful  gesture.  "You 
shall  not  smash  the  Cardigans,"  she  declared  firmly. 

"I  shall "  he  began,  but  he  paused  abruptly,  as 

if  he  had  suddenly  remembered  that  tact  and  not  pug 
nacity  was  the  requirement  for  the  handling  of  this 
ticklish  situation. 

"  You  are  devoid  of  mercy,  of  a  sense  of  sportsmanship. 
Now,  then,  Uncle  Seth,  listen  to  me :  You  have  twenty- 
four  hours  in  which  to  make  up  your  mind  whether 
to  accept  my  ultimatum  or  refuse  it.  If  you  refuse,  I 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         363 

shall  prosecute  you  for  fraud  and  a  betrayal  of  trust  as 
my  father's  executor  on  that  red-cedar  timber  deal." 

He  brightened  a  trifle.  "I'm  afraid  that  would  be 
a  long,  hard  row  to  hoe,  my  dear,  and  of  course,  I 
shall  have  to  defend  myself." 

"In  addition,"  the  girl  went  on  quietly,  "the  county 
grand  jury  shall  be  furnished  with  a  stenographic 
report  of  your  conversation  of  Thursday  night  with 
Mayor  Poundstone.  That  will  not  be  a  long,  hard  row 
to  hoe,  Uncle  Seth,  for  in  addition  to  the  stenographer, 
I  have  another  very  reliable  witness,  Judge  Moore. 
Your  casual  disposal  of  my  sedan  as  a  bribe  to  the 
Mayor  will  be  hard  to  explain  and  rather  amusing,  in 
view  of  the  fact  that  Bryce  Cardigan  managed  to 
frighten  Mr.  Poundstone  into  returning  the  sedan  while 
you  were  away.  And  if  that  is  not  sufficient  for  my 
purposes,  I  have  the  sworn  confession  of  the  Black 
Minorca  that  you  gave  him  five  hundred  dollars  to  kill 
Bryce  Cardigan.  Your  woods-boss,  Rondeau,  will 
also  swear  that  you  approached  him  with  a  proposition 
to  do  away  with  Bryce  Cardigan.  I  think,  therefore, 
that  you  will  readily  see  how  impossible  a  situation 
you  have  managed  to  create  and  will  not  disagree  with 
me  when  I  suggest  that  it  would  be  better  for  you 
to  leave  this  county." 

His  face  had  gone  gray  and  haggard.  "I  can't," 
he  murmured,  "I  can't  leave  this  great  business  now. 
Your  own  interests  in  the  company  render  such  a 
course  unthinkable.  Without  my  hand  at  the  helm, 
things  will  go  to  smash." 

"I'll  risk  that.  I  want  to  get  rid  of  that  worthless 
red-cedar  timber;  so  I  think  you  had  better  buy  it 


364         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

back  from  me  at  the  same  figure  ac  which  you  sold 
it  to  me." 

"But  I  haven't  the  money  and  I  can't  borrow   it. 

i— i — 

"I  will  have  the  equivalent  in  stock  of  the  Laguna 
Grande  Lumber  Company.  You  will  call  on  Judge 
Moore  to  complete  the  transaction  and  leave  with  him 
your  resignation  as  president  of  the  Laguna  Grande 
Lumber  Company." 

The  Colonel  raised  his  glance  and  bent  it  upon  her 
in  cold  appraisal.  She  met  it  with  firmness,  and  the 
thought  came  to  him:  "She  is  a  Pennington ! "  And 
hope  died  out  in  his  heart.  He  began  pleading  in 
maudlin  fashion  for  mercy,  for  compromise.  But  the 
girl  was  obdurate. 

"I  am  showing  you  more  mercy  than  you  deserve — 
you  to  whom  mercy  was  ever  a  sign  of  weakness,  of 
vacillation.  There  is  a  gulf  between  us,  Uncle  Seth — 
a  gulf  which  for  a  long  time  I  have  dimly  sensed  and 
which,  because  of  my  recent  discoveries,  has  widened 
until  it  can  no  longer  be  bridged." 

He  wrung  his  hands  in  desperation  and  suddenly 
slid  to  his  knees  before  her;  with  hypocritical  endear 
ments  he  strove  to  take  her  hand,  but  she  drew  away 
from  him.  "Don't  touch  me,"  she  cried  sharply  and 
with  a  breaking  note  in  her  voice.  "You  planned  to 
kill  Bryce  Cardigan!  And  for  that — and  that  alone — - 
I  shall  never  forgive  you." 

She  fled  from  the  office,  leaving  him  cringing  and  grov 
elling  on  the  floor.  "  There  will  be  no  directors'  meet 
ing,  Mr.  Sexton,"  she  informed  the  manager  as  she 
passed  through  the  general  office,  "It  is  postponed." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIH 

THAT  trying  interview  with  her  uncle  had 
wrenched  Shirley's  soul  to  a  degree  that  left 
her  faint  and  weak.  She  at  once  set  out  on  a 
long  drive,  in  the  hope  that  before  she  turned  homeward 
again  she  might  regain  something  of  her  customary 
composure. 

Presently  the  asphaltum-paved  street  gave  way 
to  a  dirt  road  and  terminated  abruptly  at  the  bound 
aries  of  a  field  that  sloped  gently  upward — a  field 
studded  with  huge  black  redwood  stumps  showing  dis 
mally  through  coronets  of  young  redwoods  that  grew 
riotously  around  the  base  of  the  departed  parent  trees. 
From  the  fringe  of  the  thicket  thus  formed,  the  terminus 
of  an  old  skid -road  showed  and  a  signboard,  freshly 
painted,  pointed  the  way  to  the  Valley  of  the  Giants. 

Shirley  had  not  intended  to  come  here,  but  now  that 
she  had  arrived,  it  occurred  to  her  that  it  was  here  she 
wanted  to  come.  Parking  her  car  by  the  side  of  the 
road,  she  alighted  and  proceeded  up  the  old  skid,  now 
newly  planked  and  with  the  encroaching  forestration 
cut  away  so  that  the  daylight  might  enter  from  above. 
On  over  the  gentle  divide  she  went  and  down  toward 
the  amphitheatre  where  the  primeval  giants  grew. 
And  as  she  approached  it,  the  sound  that  is  silence  in 
the  redwoods — the  thunderous  diapason  of  the  centuries 
—wove  its  spell  upon  her;  quickly,  imperceptibly  there 

965 


866         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

faded  from  her  mind  the  memory  of  that  grovelling 
Thing  she  had  left  behind  in  the  mill-office,  and  in  its 
place  there  came  a  subtle  peace,  a  feeling  of  awe,  of 
wonder — such  a  feeling,  indeed,  as  must  come  to  one 
in  the  realization  that  man  is  distant  but  God  is  near. 

A  cluster  of  wild  orchids  pendent  from  the  great  fun 
gus-covered  roots  of  a  gjant  challenged  her  attention. 
She  gathered  them.  Farther  on,  in  a  spot  where  a  shaft 
of  sunlight  fell,  she  plucked  an  armful  of  golden  Cali 
fornia  poppies  and  flaming  rhododendron,  and  with 
her  delicate  burden  she  came  at  length  to  the  giant- 
guarded  clearing  where  the  halo  of  sunlight  fell  upon 
the  grave  of  Bryce  Cardigan's  mother.  There  were 
red  roses  on  it — a  couple  of  dozen,  at  least,  and  these 
she  rearranged  in  order  to  make  room  for  her  own 
offering. 

"Poor  dear!"  she  murmured  audibly.  "God  didn't 
spare  you  for  much  happiness,  did  He?" 

A  voice,  deep,-  resonant,  kindly.,  spoke  a  few  feet 
away.  "Who  is  it?" 

Shirley,  startled,  turned  swiftly.  Seated  across  the 
little  amphitheatre  in  a  lumberjack's  easy-chair  fash 
ioned  from  an  old  barrel,  John  Cardigan  sat,  his  sightless 
gaze  bent  upon  her.  "Who  is  it? "  he  repeated. 

"Shirley  Sumner,"  she  answered.  "  You  do  not  know 
me,  Mr.  Cardigan." 

"No,"  replied  he,  "I  do  not.     That  is  a  name  I  have 
heard,   however.     You  are  Seth  Pennington's  niece, 
Is  someone  with  you?" 

"I  am  quite  alone,  Mr.  Cardigan." 

"And  why  did  you  come  here  alone?"  he  queried. 

"I— I  wanted  to  think." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         367 

"'You  mean  you  wanted  to  think  clearly,  my  dear. 
AJb,  yes,  this  is  the  place  for  thoughts."  He  was  silent 
a  moment.  Then:  "You  were  thinking  aloud,  Miss 
Shirley  Sumner.  I  heard  you.  You  said:  'Poor  dear, 
God  didn't  spare  you  for  much  happiness,  did  He?' 
And  I  think  you  rearranged  my  roses.  Didn't  I  have 
them  on  her  grave?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Cardigan.  I  was  merely  making  room  for 
some  wild  flowers  I  had  gathered." 

"Indeed.     Then  you  knew — about  her  being  here." 

"Yes,  sir.  Some  ten  years  ago,  when  I  was  a  very 
little  girl,  I  met  your  son  Bryce.  He  gave  me  a  ride 
on  his  Indian  pony,  and  we  came  here.  So  I  re 
member." 

*Well,  I  declare!  Ten  years  ago,  eh?  You've  met, 
eh?  You've  met  Bryce  since  his  return  to  Sequoia,  I 
believe.  He's  quite  a  fellow  now." 

"He  is  indeed." 

John  Cardigan  nodded  sagely.  "So  that's  why  you 
thought  aloud,"  he  remarked  impersonally.  "Bryce 
told  you  about  her.  You  are  right,  Miss  Shirley  Sum* 
ner.  God  didn't  give  her  much  time  for  happiness — • 
just  three  years;  but  oh,  such  wonderful  years!  Such 
wonderful  years! 

"It  was  mighty  fine  of  you  to  bring  flowers,"  he 
announced  presently.  "I  appreciate  that.  I  wish  I 
could  see  you.  You  must  be  a  dear,  nice,  thoughtful 
girl.  Won't  you  sit  down  and  talk  to  me?" 

"I  should  be  glad  to,"  she  answered,  and  seated  her 
self  on  the  brown  carpet  of  redwood  twigs  close  to  his 
chair. 
'"So  you  came  up  here  to  do  a  little  clear  thinking," 


368         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

he  continued  in  his  deliberate,  amiable  tones.     "D0 
you  come  here  often?" 

"This  is  the  third  time  in  ten  years,"  she  answered. 
"I  feel  that  I  have  no  business  to  intrude  here.  This  is 
your  shrine,  and  strangers  should  not  profane  it." 

"I  think  I  should  have  resented  the  presence  of  any 
other  person,  Miss  Sunnier.  I  resented  you — until  you 
spoke." 

"I'm  glad  you  said  that,  Mr.  Cardigan.  It  sets  me 
at  ease." 

"I  hadn't  been  up  here  for  nearly  two  years  until 
recently.  You  see  I — I  don't  own  the  Valley  of  the 
Giants  any  more." 

"  Indeed.     To  whom  have  you  sold  it?  " 

"I  do  not  know,  Miss  Sumner.  I  had  to  sell;  there 
was  no  other  way  out  of  the  jam  Bryce  and  I  were  in; 
so  I  sacrificed  my  sentiment  for  my  boy.  However, 
the  new  owner  has  been  wonderfully  kind  and  thought 
ful.  She  reorganized  that  old  skid-road  so  even  an  old 
blind  duffer  like  me  can  find  his  way  in  and  out  without 
getting  lost — and  she  had  this  easy-chair  made  for  me. 
I  have  told  Judge  Moore,  who  represents  the  unknown 
owner,  to  extend  my  thanks  to  his  client.  But  words 
are  so  empty,  Shirley  Sumner.  If  that  new  owner 
could  only  understand  how  truly  grateful  I  am — how 
.profoundly  her  courtesy  touches  me — - — " 

"Her  courtesy?"  Shirley  echoed.  *'Did  a  womap 
buy  the  Giants?" 

He  smiled  down  at  her.  "Why,  certainly.  Who 
but  a  woman — and  a  dear,  kind,  thoughtful  woman — 
would  have  thought  to  have  this  chair  maxle  and  brought 
up  here  for  me?" 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         369 

Fell  a  long  silence  between  them;  then  John  Cardi* 
gan's  trembling  hand  went  groping  out  toward  the 
girfso  "Why,  how  stupid  of  me  not  to  have  guessed 
it  immediately!"  he  said.  "You  are  the  new  owner. 
My  dear  child,  if  the  silent  prayers  of  a  very  unhappy 
old  man  will  bring  God's  blessing  on  you — there,  there, 
girl!  I  didn't  intend  to  make  you  weep.  What  a 
tender  heart  it  is,  to  be  sure!" 

She  took  his  great  toil-worn  hand,  and  her  hot  tears 
fell  on  it,  for  his  gentleness,  his  benignancy,  had 
touched  her  deeply.  "Oh,  you  must  not  tell  anybody! 
You  mustn't,"  she  cried. 

He  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  as  she  knelt  before 
Mm.  "Good  land  of  love,  girl,  what  made  you  do  it? 
Why  should  a  girl  like  you  give  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars  for  my  Valley  of  the  Giants?  WTere  you" — » 
- — hesitatingly — "your  uncle's  agent?" 

"No,  I  bought  it  myself — with  my  own  money,, 
My  uncle  doesn't  know  I  am  the  new  owner.  You  see, 
he  wanted  it — for  nothing." 

"Ah,  yes.  I  suspected  as  much  a  long  time  ago. 
Your  uncle  is  the  modern  type  of  business  man.  Not 
Very  much  of  an  idealist,  I'm  afraid.  But  tell  me  why 
you  decided  to  thwart  the  plans  of  your  relative." 

"I  knew  it  hurt  you  terribly  to  selTyour  Giants;  they 
were  dear  to  you  for  sentimental  reasons.  I  under 
stood,  also,  why  you  were  forced  to  sell;  so  I — well, 
I  decided  the  Giants  would  be  safer  in  my  possession 
than  in  my  uncle's.  In  all  probability  he  would  have 
logged  this  valley  for  the  sake  of  the  clear  seventy-two- 
inch  boards  he  could  get  from  these  trees." 

"That  does  not  explain  satisfactorily,  to  me,  why 


870         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

you  took  sides  with  a  stranger  against  your  own  kin,** 
John  Cardigan  persisted.  "There  must  be  a  deeper 
and  more  potent  reason,  Miss  Shirley  Sumner.5* 

"Well,"  Shirley  made  answer,  glad  that  he  could  not 
see  the  flush  of  confusion  and  embarrassment  that 
crimsoned  her  cheek,  "when  I  came  to  Sequoia  last 
May,  your  son  and  I  met,  quite  accidentally.  The 
stage  to  Sequoia  had  already  gone,  and  he  was  gracious 
enough  to  invite  me  to  make  the  journey  in  his  car. 
Then  we  recalled  having  met  as  children,  and  presently 
I  gathered  from  his  conversation  that  he  and  liis  John- 
partner,  as  he  called  you,  were  very  dear  to  each  other. 
I  was  witness  to  your  meeting  that  night — I  saw  him 
take  you  in  his  big  arms  and  hold  you  tight  because 
you'd — gone  blind  while  he  was  away  having  a  good 
time.  And 'you  hadn't  told  him!  I  thought  that  was 
brave  of  you;  and  later,  when  Bryce  and  Moira  McTav- 
ish  told  me  about  you — how  kind  you  were,  how  you 
felt  your  responsibility  toward  your  employees  and 
the  community — well,  I  just  couldn't  help  a  leaning 
toward  John-partner  and  John-partner's  boy,  because 
the  boy  was  so  fine  and  true  to  his  father's  ideals." 

"Ah,  he's  a  man.  He  is  indeed,"  old  John  Cardigan 
murmured  proudly.  "I  clare  say  you'll  never  get  to 
know  him  intimately,  but  if  you  should— 

"I  know  him  intimately,"  she  corrected  him.  "He 
saved  my  life  the  day  the  log-traL:  ran  away.  And 
that  was  another  reason.  I  owed  him  a  debt,  and  so 
did  my  uncle;  but  Uncle  wouldn't  pay  his  she  re,  and 
T  had  to  pay  for  him." 

"Wonderful,"  murmured  John  Cardigan,  "wonderful! 
But  still  you  haven't  told  me  why  you  paid  a  hundred 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         371 

thousand  dollars  for  the  Giants  when  you  could  have 
bought  them  for  fifty  thousand.  You  had  a  woman's 
reason,  I  dare  say,  and  women  always  reason  from  the 
heart,  never  the  head.  However,  if  you  do  not  care 
to  tell  me,  I  shall  not  insist.  Perhaps  I  have  appeared 
unduly  inquisitive." 

"I  would  rather  not  tell  you,"  she  answered. 

A  gentle,  prescient  smile  fringed  his  old  mouth;  he 
wagged  his  leonine  head  as  if  to  say:  "Why  should  I 
ask,  when  I  know? "  Fell  again  a  restful  silence.  Then : 

"Am  I  allowed  one  guess,  Miss  Shirley  Sunmer?" 

"Yes,  but  you  would  never  guess  the  reason." 

"I  am  a  very  wise  old  man.  When  one  sits  in  the 
dark,  one  sees  much  that  was  hidden  from  him  in  the 
full  glare  of  the  light.  My  son  is  proud,  manly,  in 
dependent,  and  the  soul  of  honour.  He  needed  a 
hundred  thousand  dollars;  you  knew  it.  Probably 
your  uncle  informed  you.  You  wanted  to  loan  him 
some  money,  but — you  couldn't.  You  feared  to  offend 
him  by  proffering  it;  had  you  proffered  it,  he  would 
have  declined  it.  So  you  bought  niy  Valley  of  the 
Giants  at  a  preposterous  price  and  kept  your  action  a 
secret."  And  he  patted  her  hand  gently,  as  if  to 
silence  any  denial,  while  far  down  the  skid-road  a  voice 
— a  half-trained  baritone — floated  faintly  to  them 
through  the  forest.  Somebody  was  singing — or  rather 
chanting — a  singularly  tuneless  refrain,  wild  and 
barbaric. 

"What  is  that?"  Shirley  cried. 

"That  is  my  son,  coming  to  fetch  his  old  daddy 
home,"  replied  John  Cardigan.  "  That  thing  he's  howl 
ing  is  an  Indian  war-song  or  psean  of  triumph — -some- 


372         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

thing  his  nurse  taught  him  when  he  wore  pinafores. 
If  you'll  excuse  me,  Miss  Shirley  Stunner,  I'll  leave  you 
now.  I  generally  contrive  to  meet  him  on  the  trail." 

He  bade  her  good-bye  and  started  down  the  trail, 
his  stick  tapping  against  the  old  logging-cable  stretched 
from  tree  to  tree  beside  the  trail  and  marking  it. 

Shirley  was  tremendously  relieved.  She  did  not  wish 
to  meet  Bryce  Cardigan  to-day,  and  she  was  distinctly 
grateful  to  John  Cardigan  for  his  nice  consideration  in 
sparing  her  an  interview.  She  seated  herself  in  the 
lumberjack's  easy-chair  so  lately  vacated,  and  chin  in 
hand  gave  herself  up  to  meditation  on  this  extraordinary 
old  man  and  his  extraordinary  son. 

A  couple  of  hundred  yards  down  the  trail  Bryce  met 
his  father.  "Hello,  John  Cardigan!"  he  called.  "What 
do  you  mean  by  skallyhooting  through  these  woods 
without  a  pilot?  Eh?  Explain  your  reckless  con 
duct." 

L<You  great  overgrown  duffer,"  his  father  retorted 
affectionately,  "I  thought  you'd  never  come."  He 
reached  into  his  pocket  for  a  handkerchief,  but  failed  to 
find  it  and  searched  through  another  pocket  and  ^till 
another.  "By  gravy,  son,"  he  remarked  presently, 
"I  do  believe  I  left  my  silk  handkerchief — the  one 
Moira  gave  me  for  my  last  birthday — up  yonder.  I 
wouldn't  lose  that  handkerchief  for  a  farm.  Skip 
along  and  find  it  for  me,  son.  I'll  wait  for  you  here. 
Don't  hurry." 

"I'll  be  back  in  a  pig's  whisper,"  his  son  replied, 
and  started  briskly  up  the  trail,  while  his  father  leaned 
against  a  madrone  tree  and  smiled  his  prescient  little 
smile, 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         373 

Bryee's  brisk  step  on  the  thick  carpet  of  withered 
brown  twigs  aroused  Shirley  from  her  reverie.  When 
she  looked  up,  he  was  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  little 
amphitheatre  gazing  at  her. 

"You — you!"  she  stammered,  and  rose  as  if  to  flee 
from  him. 

"The  governor  sent  me  back  to  look  for  his  hand 
kerchief,  Shirley,"  he  explained.  "He  didn't  tell  me 
you  were  here.  Guess  he  didn't  hear  you."  He  ad 
vanced  smilingly  toward  her.  "I'm  tremendously 
glad  to  see  you  to-day,  Shirley,"  he  said,  and  paused 
beside  her.  "Fate  has  been  singularly  kind  to  me. 
Indeed,  I've  been  pondering  all  day  as  to  just  how  I 
was  to  arrange  a  private  and  confidential  little  chat  with 
you,  without  calling  upon  yj^  at  your  uncle's  house." 

"I  don't  feel  like  chatting  to-day,"  she  answered  a 
little  drearily — and  then  he  •  oted  her  wet  lashes.  In 
stantly  he  was  on  one  knee  beside  her ;  with  the  amazing 
confidence  that  had  always  distinguished  him  in  her 
eyes,  his  big  left  arm  went  around  her,  and  when  her 
hands  went  to  her  face,  he  drew  them  gently  away. 

"I've  waited  too  long,  sweetheart,"  he  murmured. 
"Thank  God,  I  can  tell  you  at  last  all  the  things  that 
have  been  accumulating  in  my  heart.  I  love  you, 
Shirley.  I've  loved  you  from  that  first  day  we  met  at 
the  station,  and  all  these  months  of  strife  and  repression 
have  merely  served  to  make  me  love  you  the  more. 
Perhaps  you  have  been  all  the  dearer  to  me  because 
you  seemed  so  hopelessly  unattainable." 

He  drew  her  head  down  on  his  breast;  his  great  hand 
patted  her  hot  cheek;  his  honest  brown  eyes  gazed 
earnestly,  wistfully  into  hers.  "I  Jove  you,"  he  whis- 


874         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

pered.  "All  that  I  have—all  that  I  am— all  that  I 
hope  to  be — I  offer  to  you,  Shirley  Sumner;  and  in  the 
shrine  of  my  heart  I  shall  hold  you  sacred  while  life  shall 
last.  You  are  not  indifferent  to  me,  dear.  I  know  you're 
not;  but  tell  me — answer  me " 

Her  violet  eyes  were  uplifted  to  his,  and  in  them  he 
read  the  answer  to  his  cry.  "Ah,  may  I?"  he  mur 
mured,  and  kissed  her. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  impulsive,  gentle  big  sweetheart,** 
she  whispered — and  then  her  arms  went  around  his 
neck,  and  the  fullness  of  her  happiness  found  vent  in 
tears  he  did  not  seek  to  have  her  repress.  In  the  safe 
haven  of  his  arms  she  rested;  and  there,  quite  without 
effort  or  distress,  she  managed  to  convey  to  him  some 
thing  more  than  an  inkling  of  the  thoughts  that  were 
wont  to  come  to  her  whenever  they  met. 

"Oh,  my  love!"  he  r  — d  happily,  "I  hadn't  dared 
dream  of  such  happiness  until  to-day.  You  were  so  un 
attainable — the  obstacles  between  us  were  so  many 
and  so  great " 

"Why  to-day,  Bryce?"  she  interrupted  him. 

He  took  her  adorable  little  nose  in  his  great  thumb 
and  forefinger  and  tweaked  it  gently.  "The  light  be 
gan  to  dawn  yesterday,  my  dear  little  *nemy,  following 
an  interesting  half -hour  which  I  put  in  with  His  Honour 
the  Mayor.  Acting  upon  suspicion  only,  I  told 
Poundstone  I  was  prepared  to  send  him  to  the  rock-pile 
if  he  didn't  behave  himself  in  the  matter  of  my  per 
manent  franchise  for  the  N.  C.  O. — and  the  oily  old 
invertebrate  wept  and  promised  me  anything  if  I 
wouldn't  disgrace  him.  So  I  promised  I  wouldn't  do 
anything  until  the  franchise  matter  should  be  definitely 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         375 

settled — after  which  I  returned  to  my  office,  to  find 
awaiting  me  there  no  less  a  person  than  the  right-of-way 
man  for  the  Northwestern  Pacific.  He  was  a  perfectly 
delightful  young  fellow,  and  he  had  a  proposition  to 
unfold.  It  seems  the  Northwestern  Pacific  has  decided 
to  build  up  from  Willits,  and  all  that  powwow  and 
publicity  of  Buck  Ogilvy's  about  the  N.  C.  O.  was  in  all 
probability  the  very  thing  that  spurred  them  to  action. 
They  figured  the  C.  M.  &  St.  P.  was  back  of  the  N.  C.  O. 
— that  it  was  to  be  the  first  link  of  a  chain  of  coast  roads 
to  be  connected  ultimately  with  the  terminus  of  the 
C.  M.  &  St.  P.  on  Gray's  Harbour,  Washington,  And 
if  the  N.  C.  O.  should  be  built,  it  meant  that  a  rival 
road  would  get  the  edge  on  them  in  the  matter  of  every 
stick  of  Humboldt  and  Del  Norte  redwood — and 
they'd  be  left  holding  the  sack." 

"Why  did  they  think  that,  dear?" 

"That  amazing  rascal  Buck  Ogilvy  used  to  be  a- 
C.  M.  &  St.  P.  man;  they  thought  they  traced  an  anal* 
ogy,  I  dare  say.  Perhaps  Buck  fibbed  to  them.  At 
any  rate,  this  right-of-way  man  was  mighty  anxious 
to  know  whether  or  not  the  N.  C.  O.  had  purchased 
from  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company  a  site 
for  a  terminus  on  tidewater  (we  control  all  the  deep- 
water  frontage  on  the  Bay),  and  when  I  told  him  the 
deal  had  not  yet  been  closed,  he  started  to  close  on& 
with  me." 

"Did  you  close?" 

"My  dear  girl,  will  a  duck  swim?  Of  course  I 
closed.  I  sold  three  quarters  of  all  we  had,  for  three 
quarters  of  a  million  dollars,  and  an  hour  ago  I  received 
a  wire  from  m^  attorney  in  San  Francisco  informing 


376         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

me  that  the  money  had  been  deposited  in  escrow  there 
awaiting  formal  deed.  That  money  puts  the  Cardigan 
Redwood  Lumber  Company  in  the  clear — no  receiver 
ship  for  us  now,  my  dear  one.  And  I'm  going  right 
ahead  with  the  building  of  the  N.  C.  O. — while  our 
holdings  down  on  the  San  Hedrin  double  in  value,  for 
the  reason  that  within  three  years  they  will  be  accessible 
and  can  be  logged  over  the  rails  of  the  Northwestern 
Pacific!" 

"Bryce,"  Shirley  declared,  "haven't  I  always  told 
you  I'd  never  permit  you  to  build  the  N.  C.  O.?" 

"Of  course/'  he  replied,  "but  surely  you're  going  to 
withdraw  your  objections  now." 

"I  am  not.  You  must  choose  between  the  N.  C.  O. 
and  me."  And  she  met  his  surprised  gaze  unflinch 
ingly. 

"  Shirley !     You  don't  mean  it?  " 

"I  do  mean  it.  I  have  always  meant  it.  I  love  you, 
dear,  but  for  all  that,  you  must  not  build  that  road." 

He  stood  up  and  towered  above  her  sternly.  "I 
must  build  it,  Shirley.  I've  contracted  to  do  it,  and 
I  must  keep  faith  with  Gregory  of  the  Trinidad  Timber 
Company.  He's  putting  up  the  money,  and  I'm  to  dc 
the  work  and  operate  the  line.  I  can't  go  back  on  him 


now." 


"Not  for  my  sake ?  "  she  pleaded.  He  shook  his  head. 
"I  must  go  on,"  he  reiterated. 

"Do  you  realize  what  that  resolution  means  to  us?" 
The  girl's  tones  were  grave,  her  glance  graver. 

"  I  realize  what  it  means  to  me ! " 

She  came  closer  to  Inm.  Suddenly  the  blaze  in  her 
violet  eyes  gave  way  to  one  of  mirth.  "Oh,  you  dear 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         377 

big  booby!"  she  cried.  "I  was  just  testing  you." 
And  she  clung  to  him,  laughing.  "You  always  beat 
me  down — you  always  win.  Bryce,  dear,  I'm  the 
Laguna  Grande  Lumber  Company — at  least,  I  will  be 
to-morrow,  and  I  repeat  for  the  last  time  that  you  shall 
not  build  the  N.  C.  O. — because  I'm  going  to — oh,  dear, 
I  shall  die  laughing  at  you — because  I'm  going  to  merge 
with  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber  Company,  and 
then  my  railroad  shall  be  your  railroad,  and  we'll  extend 
it  and  haul  Gregory's  logs  to  tidewater  for  him  also. 
And — silly,  didn't  I  tell  you  you'd  never  build  the 
N.  C.  O.?" 

"God  bless  my  mildewed  soul!"  he  murmured,  and 
drew  her  to  him. 

In  the  gathering  dusk  they  walked  down  the  trail. 
Beside  the  madrone  tree  John  Cardigan  waited  pa 
tiently. 

"Well,"  he  queried  when  they  joined  him,  "did  you 
find  my  handkerchief  for  me,  son?" 

"I  didn't  find  your  handkerchief,  John  Cardigan," 
Bryce  answered,  "but  I  did  find  what  I  suspect  you 
sent  me  back  for — ard  that  is  a  perfectly  wonderful 
daughter-in-law  for  you." 

John  Cardigan  smiled  and  held  out  his  arms  for  her. 
"This,"  he  said,  "is  the  happiest  day  that  I  have  known 
since  my  boy  was  born." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

COLONEL  SETH  PENNINGTON   was  thor 
oughly  crushed.     Look  which  way  he  would, 
the  bedevilled  old  rascal  could  find  no  loophole 
for  escape. 

"You  win,  Cardigan,"  he  muttered  desperately  as 
he  sat  in  his  office  after  Shirley  had  left  him.  "You've 
had  more  than  a  shade  in  every  round  thus  far,  and 
at  the  finish  you've  landed  a  clean  knockout.  If  I  had 

to  fight  any  man  but  you " 

He  sighed  resignedly  and  pressed  the  push-button 
on  his  desk.  Sexton  entered.  "Sexton,"  he  said 
bluntly  and  with  a  slight  quiver  in  his  voice,  "my  niece 
and  I  have  had  a  disagreement.  We  have  quarrelled 
over  young  Cardigan.  She's  going  to  marry  him. 
Now,  our  affairs  are  somewhat  involved,  and  in  order 
to  straighten  them  out,  we  spun  a  coin  to  see  whether 
she  should  sell  her  stock  in  Laguna  Grande  to  me  or 
whether  I  should  sell  mine  to  her — and  I  lost.  The 
book-valuation  of  the  stock  at  the  close  of  last  year's 
business,  plus  ten  per  cent.,  will  determine  the  selling 
price,  and  I  shall  resign  as  president.  You  will,  in  all 
probability,  be  retained  to  manage  the  company  until 
it  is  merged  with  the  Cardigan  Redwood  Lumber 
Company — when,  I  imagine,  you  will  be  given  ample 
notice  to  seek  a  new  job  elsewhere.  Call  Miss  Sumner's 
attorney,  Judge  Moore,  on  the  telephone  and  ask  him  to 

878 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         379 

come  to  the  office  at  nine  o'clock  to-morrow,  when  the 
papers  can  be  drawn  up  and  signed.  That  is  all." 

The  Colonel  did  not  return  to  his  home  in  Redwood 
Boulevard  that  night.  He  had  no  appetite  for  dinner 
and  sat  brooding  in  his  office  until  very  late;  then  he 
went  to  the  Hotel  Sequoia  and  engaged  a  room.  He 
did  not  possess  sufficient  courage  to  face  his  niece  again 

At  four  o'clock  the  next  day  the  Colonel,  his  baggage, 
his  automobile,  his  chauffeur,  and  the  solemn  butler 
James,  boarded  the  passenger  steamer  for  San  Fran 
cisco,  and  at  four-thirty  sailed  out  of  Humboldt  Bay 
over  the  thundering  bar  and  on  into  the  south.  The 
Colonel  was  still  a  rich  man,  but  his  dream  of  a  red 
wood  empire  had  faded,  and  once  more  he  was  taking 
up  the  search  for  cheap  timber.  Whether  he  ever 
found  it  or  not  is  a  matter  that  does  not  concern  us. 

At  a  moment  when  young  Henry  Poundstone's 
dream  of  legal  opulence  was  fading,  when  Mayor 
Poundstone's  hopes  for  domestic  peace  had  been  shat 
tered  beyond  repair,  the  while  his  cheap  political 
aspirations  had  been  equally  devastated  because  of  a 
certain  damnable  document  in  the  possession  of  Bryce 
Cardigan,  many  events  of  importance  were  trans 
piring.  On  the  veranda  of  his  old-fashioned  home, 
John  Cardigan  sat  tapping  the  floor  with  his  stick  and 
dreaming  dreams  which,  for  the  first  time  in  many 
years,  were  rose-tinted.  Beside  him  Shirley  sat,  her 
glance  bent  musingly  out  across  the  roofs  of  Sequoia 
and  on  to  the  bay  shore,  where  the  smoke  and  exhaust- 
steam  floated  up  from  two  sawmills — her  own  and  Bryce 
Cardigan's.  To  her  came  at  regularly  spaced  intervals 
the  faint  whining  of  the  saws  and  the  rumble  of  log- 


S80         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

trains  crawling  out  on  the  log-dumps;  high  over  the 
piles  of  bright,  freshly  sawed  lumber  she  caught  from 
time  to  time  the  flash  of  white  spray  as  the  great  logs 
tossed  from  the  trucks,  hurtled  down  the  skids,  and 
crashed  into  the  Bay.  At  the  docks  of  both  mills 
vessels  were  loading,  their  tall  spars  cutting  the  sky 
line  above  and  beyond  the  smokestacks;  far  down 
the  Bay  a  steam  schooner,  loaded  until  her  main-deck 
was  almost  flush  with  the  water,  was  putting  out  to 
sea,  and  Shirley  heard  the  f aint  echo  of  her  siren  as  she 
whistled  her  intention  to  pass  to  starboard  of  a  wind 
jammer  inward  bound  in  tow  of  a  Cardigan  tug. 

"It's  wonderful,"  she  said  presently,  apropos  of 
nothing. 

"Aye,"  he  replied  in  his  deep,  melodious  voice, 
"I've  been  sitting  here,  my  dear,  listening  to  your 
thoughts.  You  know  something,  now,  of  the  tie  that 
binds  my  boy  to  Sequoia.  This" — he  waved  his  arm 
abroad  in  the  darkness — "this  is  the  true  essence  of 
life — to  create,  to  develop  the  gifts  that  God  has  given 
us — to  work  and  know  the  blessing  of  weariness — to 
have  dreams  and  see  them  come  true.  That  is  life,  and 
I  have  lived.  And  now  I  am  ready  to  rest."  He 
smiled  wistfully.  "'The  king  is  dead.  Long  live  the 
king.'  I  wonder  if  you,  raised  as  you  have  been,  can 
face  life  in  Sequoia  resolutely  with  my  son.  It  is  a 
dull,  drab  sawmill  town,  where  life  unfolds  gradually 
without  thrill — where  the  years  stretch  ahead  of  one 
with  only  trees,  among  simple  folk.  The  life  may  be 
hard  on  you,  Shirley;  one  has  to  acquire  a  taste  for  it, 
you  know." 

"I  hi.ve  known  the  lilt  of  battle,  John -partner,"  she 


THE  VALLEY  OP  THE  GIANTS         381 

answered;  "hence  I  think  I  can  enjoy  the  sweets  of 

victory.     I  am  content. ' ' 

"And  what  a  run  you  did  give  that  boy  Bryce !  '* 

She  laughed  softly.     "I  wanted  him  to  fight;  I  had  a 

great  curiosity  to  see  the  stuff  that  was  in  him/' site 

explained. 


CHAPTER  XL 

NEXT  day  Bryce  Cardigan,  riding  the  top  log  on 
the  end  truck  of  a  long  train  just  in  from  Car 
digan's  woods  in  Township  Nine,  dropped 
from  the  end  of  the  log  as  the  train  crawled  through 
the  mill-yard  on  its  way  to  the  log-dump.  He  hailed 
Buck  Ogilvy,  where  the  latter  stood  in  the  door  of  the 
office. 

"Big  doings  up  on  Little  Laurel  Creek  this  morning, 
Buck." 

"  Do  tell ! "     Mr.  Ogilvy  murmured  morosely. 

"It  was  great,"  Bryce  continued.  "Old  Duncan 
McTavish  returned.  I  knew  he  would.  His  year  on 
the  mourner 's-bench  expired  yesterday,  and  he  came 
back  to  claim  his  old  job  of  woods-boss." 

"He's  one  year  too  late,"  Ogilvy  declared.  "I 
wouldn't  let  that  big  Canadian  Jules  Rondeau  quit 
for  a  farm.  Some  woods-boss,  that — and  his  first  job 
with  this  company  was  the  dirtiest  you  could  hand  him 
—smearing  grease  on  the  skid-road  at  a  dollar  and  a 
half  a  day  and  found.  He's  made  too  good  to  lose  out 
now.  I  don't  care  what  his  private  morals  may  be. 
He  can  get  out  the  logs,  hang  his  rascally  hide,  and  I'm 
for  him." 

"I'm  afraid  you  haven't  anything  to  say  about  it, 
Buck,"  Bryce  replied  dryly. 

"I  haven't,  eh?    Well,  any  time  you  deny  me  the 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS        383 

privilege  of  hiring  and  firing,  you're  going  to  be  out  the 
service  of  a  rattling  good  general  manager,  my  son. 
Yes,  sir!  If  you  hold  me  responsible  for  results,  I 
must  select  the  tools  I  want  to  work  with." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  Bryce  laughed.  "Have  it  your 
own  way.  Only  if  you  can  drive  Duncan  McTavish 
out  of  Cardigan's  woods,  I'd  like  to  see  you  do  it.  Pos 
session  is  nine  points  of  the  law,  Buck — and  Old  Dun 
can  is  in  possession." 

"What  do  you  mean — in  possession?  " 

"I  mean  that  at  ten  o'clock  this  morning  Duncan 
McTavish  appeared  at  our  log-landing.  The  whisky- 
fat  was  all  gone  from  him,  and  he  appeared  forty  years 
old  instead  of  the  sixty  he  is.  With  a  whoop  he  came 
jumping  over  the  logs,  straight  for  Jules  Rondeau, 
The  big  Canuck  saw  him  coming  and  knew  what  his 
visit  portended — so  he  wasn't  taken  unawares.  It 
was  a  case  of  fight  for  his  job — and  Rondeau  fought." 

"The  devil  you  say!" 

"I  do — and  there  was  the  devil  to  pay.  It  was  a 
rough  and  tumble  and  no  grips  barred — just  the  kind 
of  fight  Rondeau  likes.  Nevertheless  old  Duncan 
floored  him.  While  he's  been  away  somebody  taught 
him  the  hammer-lock  and  the  crotch-hold  and  a  few 
more  fancy  ones,  and  he  got  to  work  on  Rondeau  in  a 
hurry.  In  fact,  he  had  to,  for  if  the  tussle  had  gone 
over  five  minutes,  Rondeau's  youth  would  have  de 
cided  the  issue." 

"And  Rondeau  was  whipped?" 

"To  a  whisper.  Mac  floored  him,  climbed  him,  and 
choked  him  until  he  beat  the  ground  with  his  free 
hand  in  token  of  surrender:  whereupon  old  Duncan  let 


384        THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

him  up,  and  Rondeau  went  to  his  shanty  and  padked 
his  turkey.  The  last  I  saw  of  him  he  was  headed  over 
the  hill  to  Camp  Two  on  Laguna  Grande.  He'll 
probably  chase  that  assistant  woods-boss  I  hired  after 
the  consolidation,  out  of  Shirley's  woods  and  help 
himself  to  the  fellow's  job.  I  don't  care  if  he  does. 
What  interests  me  is  the  fact  that  the  old  Cardigan 
woods-boss  is  back  on  the  job  in  Cardigan's  woods,  and 
I'm  mighty  glad  of  it.  The  old  horsethief  has  had  his 
lesson  and  will  remain  sober  hereafter.  I  think  he's 
cured." 

"  The  infamous  old  outlaw ! " 

"Mac  knows  the  San  Hedrin  as  I  know  my  own 
pocket.  He'll  be  a  tower  of  strength  when  we  open  up 
that  tract  after  the  railroad  builds  in.  By  the  way,  has 
my  dad  been  down  this  morning?  " 

"Yes.  Moira  read  the  mail  to  him  and  then  took 
him  up  to  the  Valley  of  the  Giants.  He  said  he  wanted 
to  do  a  little  quiet  figuring  on  that  new  steam  schooner 
you're  thinking  of  building.  He  thinks  she  ought  to 
be  bigger — big  enough  to  carry  two  million  feet." 

Bryce  glanced  at  his  watch.  "It's  half  after  eleven,'* 
he  said.  "Guess  I'll  run  up  to  the  Giants  and  bring 
him  home  to  luncheon." 

He  stepped  into  the  Napier  standing  outside  the 
office  and  drove  away.  Buck  Ogilvy  waited  until 
Bryce  was  out  of  sight;  then  with  sudden  determina 
tion  he  entered  the  office. 

"Moira,"  he  said  abruptly,  approaching  the  desk 
where  she  worked,  "your  dad  is  back,  and  what's  more, 
Bryce  Cardigan  has  let  him  have  his  old  job  as  woods- 
boss.  And  I'm  here  to  announce  that  you're  not  going 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         385 

^ 

feack  to  the  woods  to  keep  house  for  him.  Under 
stand?  Now,  look  here,  Moira.  I've  shilly-shallied 
around  you  for  months,  protesting  my  love,  and  I 
haven't  gotten  anywhere.  To-day  I'm  going  to  ask 
you  for  the  last  time.  Will  you  marry  me?  I  need 
you  worse  than  that  rascal  of  a  father  of  yours  does, 
and  I  tell  you  I'll  not  have  you  go  back  to  the  woods 
to  take  care  of  him.  Come,  now,  Moira.  Do  give  me 
a  definite  answer." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  love  you  well  enough  to  marry 
you,  Mr.  Ogilvy,"  Moira  pleaded.  "I'm  truly  fond 
of  you,  but " 

"The  last  boatVgone,"  cried  Mr.  Ogilvy  desperately. 
'Tm  answered.  Well,  I'll  not  stick  around  here  much 
longer,  Moira.  I  realize  I  must  be  a  nuisance,  but  I 
can't  help  being  a  nuisance  when  you're  near  me.  So 
I'll  quit  nay  good  job  here  and  go  back  to  my  old  game 
of  railroading." 

"Oh,  you  wouldn't  quit  a  ten-thousand-dollar  job," 
Moira  cried,  aghast. 

"I'd  quit  a  million-dollar  job.  I'm  desperate  enough 
to  go  over  to  the  mill  and  pick  a  fight  with  the  big  band- 
saw.  I'm  going  away  where  I  can't  see  you.  Your 
eyes  are  driving  me  crazy." 

"But  I  don't  want  you  to  go,  Mr.  Ogilvy."    , 

"Call  me  Buck,"  he  commanded  sharply. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  go,  Buck,"  she  repeated  meekly. 
"I  shall  feel  guilty,  driving  you  out  of  a  fine  position." 

"Then  marry  me  and  I'll  stay." 

"But  suppose  I  don't  love  you  the  way  you  de 
serve " 

"Suppose!    Suppose]"  Buck  Ogilvy  cried.   J 


386          THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

no  longer  certain  of  yourself.  How  dare  you  deny  your 
love  for  me?  Eh?  Moira,  I'll  risk  it." 

Her  eyes  turned  to  him  timidly,  and  for  the  first 
time  he  saw  in  their  smoky  depths  a  lambent  flame.  "I 
don't  know,"  she  quavered,  "and  it's  a  big  responsi 
bility  in  case " 

"Oh,  the  devil  take  the  case!"  he  cried  rapturously, 
and  took  her  hands  in  his.  "Do  I  improve  with  age, 
dear  Moira?"  he  asked  with  boyish  eagerness;  then, 
before  she  could  answer,  he  swept  on,  a  tornado  of  love 
and  pleading.  And  presently  Moira  was  in  Iiis  arms, 
he  was  kissing  her,  and  she  was  crying  softly  because — 
well,  she  admired  Mr.  Buck  Ogilvy;  more,  she  respected 
him  and  was  genuinely  fond  of  him.  She  wondered,  and 
as  she  wondered,  a  quiet  joy  thrilled  her  in  the  knowledge 
that  it  did  not  seem  at  all  impossible  for  her  to  grow, 
in  time,  absurdly  fond  of  this  wholesome  red  rascal. 

"Oh,  Buck,  dear,"  she  whispered,  "I  don't  know, 
I'm  sure,  but  perhaps  I've  loved  you  a  little  bit  for  a 
long  time." 

"I'm  perfectly  wild  over  you.  You're  the  most 
wonderful  woman  I  ever  heard  of.  Old  rosy-cheeks!" 
And  he  pinched  them  just  to  see  the  colour  come  and  go. 

John  Cardigan  was  seated  in  his  lumberjack's  easy- 
chair  as  his  son  approached.  His  hat  lay  on  the  litter 
of  brown  twigs  beside  him;  his  cli^i  ™as  sunk  on  his 
breast,  and  his  head  was  held  a  little  to  £.?«  side  in  a 
listening  attitude;  a  vagrant  little  breeze  rustic  J  ^ently 
a  lock  of  his  fine,  long  white  hair.  Bryce  stooped  crrr 
the  old  man  and  shook  him  gently  by  the  shoulder. 

"Wake  up,  partner,"  he  called  cheerfully.     But  John 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS         387 

Cardigan  did  not  wake,  and  again  his  son  shook  him. 
Still  receiving  no  response,  Bryce  lifted  the  leonine  old 
head  and  gazed  into  his  father's  face.  "John  Cardi 
gan!"  he  cried  sharply.  "Wake  up,  old  pal." 

The  old  eyes  opened,  and  John  Cardigan  smiled  up 
at  his  boy.  "Good  son,"  he  whispered,  "good  son!" 
He  closed  his  sightless  eyes  again  as  if  the  mere  effort 
of  holding  them  open  wearied  him.  "I've  been  sitting 
here — waiting,"  he  went  on  in  the  same  gentle  whisper. 
"  No,  not  waiting  for  you,  boy — waiting " 

His  head  fell  over  on  his  son's  shoulder •  his  hand  went 
groping  for  Bryce's.  " Listen,"  he  continued.  "  Can't 
you  hear  it — the  Silence?  I'll  wait  for  you  here,  my 
son.  Mother  and  I  will  wait  together  now — in  this 
spot  she  fancied.  I'm  tired — I  want  rest.  Look  after 
old  Mac  and  Moira — and  Bill  Dandy,  who  lost  his  leg 
at  Camp  Seven  last  fall — and  Tom  Ellington's  children 
— and — all  the  others,  son.  You  know,  Bryce.  They're 
your  responsibilities.  Sorry  I  can't  wait  to  see  the  San 
Hedrin  ooened  up,  but — I've  lived  my  life  and  loved  my 
love.  Ah,  yes,  I've  been  happy — so  happy  just  doing 
things — and — dreaming  here  among  ray  Giants — 
and " 

He  sighed  gently.  "Good  son,"  he  whispered  again; 
his  big  body  relaxed,  and  the  great  heart  of  the  Argo 
naut  was  still.  Bryce  held  him  until  the  realization  came 
to  him  that  his  father  was  no  more— that  like  a  watch, 
the  winding  of  which  has  been  neglected,  he  had  grad 
ually  slowed  up  and  stopped. 

"Good-bye,  old  John-partner!"  he  murmured. 
"You've  escaped  into  the  light  at  last.  YVe'll  go  home 
together  now,  but  we'll  come  back  again." 


388         THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

And  with  his  father's  body  in  his  strong  arms  he 
departed  from  the  little  amphitheatre,  walking  lightly 
with  his  heavy  burden  down  the  old  skid-road  to  the 
waiting  automobile.  And  two  days  later  John  Cardi 
gan  returned  to  rest  forever  with  his  lost  mate  among 
the  Giants,  himself  at  last  an  infinitesimal  portion  of 
that  tremendous  silence  that  is  the  diapason  of  the 
ages. 

When  the  funeral  was  over,  Shirley  and  Bryce  lin 
gered  until  they  found  themselves  alone  beside  the 
freshly  turned  earth.  Through  a  rift  in  the  great 
branches  two  hundred  feet  above,  a  patch  of  cerulean 
sky  showed  faintly;  the  sunlight  fell  like  a  broad  golden 
shaft  over  the  blossom-laden  grave,  and  from  the 
brown  trunk  of  an  adjacent  tree  a  gray  squirrel,  a 
descendant,  perhaps,  of  the  gray  squirrel  that  had 
been  wont  to  rob  Bryce's  pockets  of  pine-nuts  twenty 
years  before,  chirped  at  them  inquiringly. 

"He  was  a  giant  among  men,"  said  Bryce  presently. 
"What  a  fitting  place  for  him  to  lie!"  He  passed 
his  arm  around  his  wife's  shoulders  and  drew  her  to 
him.  "You  made  it  possible,  sweetheart." 

She  gazed  up  at  him  in  adoration.  And  presently 
they  left  the  Valley  of  the  Giants  to  face  the  world  to 
gether,  strong  in  their  faith  to  live  their  lives  and  love 
their  loves,  to  dream  their  dreams  and  perchance 
when  life  should  be  done  with  and  the  hour  of  rest  at 
hand,  to  surrender,  sustained  and  comforted  by  the 
knowledge  that  those  dreams  had  come  true. 


END 


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